


The Length of One's Rope

by Rodan427



Series: Power Rangers Ninjetti [7]
Category: Power Rangers
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 01:20:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8645626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rodan427/pseuds/Rodan427
Summary: Earth is safe after the Zord battle over the weekend. However both teams are depleted a teammate. As Rita prepares a scheme for revenge, Tommy struggles to keep his Power Ranger and professional lives separate. Faced with nostalgia, he must come to terms with what he feels and thinks. Meanwhile, Rocky continues down the path he has chosen as Adam deals with his own demons.





	1. Weary

Monday dawned.  Minute by minute, the sun stretched its light further across the earth’s rotating surface, brightening the sky.  Grasses pricked up, waking from their slumber.  Sneaking around a pair of bamboo window shades, the sunlight permeated a single bedroom.

Inside Dr. Tommy Oliver lay buried in his sheets, silent in his slumber.  His face remained smooth save for the stubble that had grown.  The sun’s light brightened about him.  Suddenly his eyelids twitched, his eyeballs scurrying underneath them.

Minute white noise, almost inaudible and yet resonate, echoed and reverberated throughout his dreams.   Devoid of syllables but populated with vowels as consonants chimed and whispered in and out, the noise taunted Tommy Oliver.

Then they slowed.  His breathing loosening, he sank back into slumber.

The hour slid onward.

BUZZ!  BUZZ!  BUZZ!  BUZZ!  BUZZ!

Tommy slammed his right hand on the wide snooze button upon his alarm clock.  Bouncing briefly, his hand slid off the bedside table, dragging the vile contraption with it.  It crashed, bouncing on its smooth—now jagged—edges.  Eyes still shut Tommy grimaced.  _Great!_ he cursed.  He turned over, bearing his face into his pillow.

Time stretched on.  Despite his desire, sleep remained distant.

 _Reefside… classes,_ he thought, struggling to link together trains of thought in the vast expanse of his mind.  _I can’t… let them down.  Students._

Grunting, he planted his palms into the mattress.  Pushing his upper body up, he swayed, his arms sliding outward.  Replanting them, he steadied himself.  Sighing he covered his eyes.  Fatigue still dazed his mind.

 _I slept long enough,_ he remarked.  _I should be fine._

He gazed at the bedroom door, remembering what lay beyond it… and within his soul.  A faint shiver squirmed through his arms and down his thighs.  He washed it away; but several new ones rippled up his forehead as memories, tainted and gloomyloomed anew within him.  Yesterday’s battles clanged in his mind:  his threats chorusing with the explosions he, Goldar, and Scorpina had caused to the Shogunzords, lightning bolts shoving Sean to his knees and side.

Rubbing his temples, he clapped his eyes shut again, squeezing them.  Wincing out a groan, he cowered.   Cradling, he rocked back and forth.  _Sean's assault wasn’t my fault,_ he pleaded, gritting his teeth, _just as it wasn’t mine when Rita turned me evil.  Evil power ranger,_ he mused.

 _“There’s no such thing,”_ Sean’s voice reminded him from memory.

 _But Jason is a Ninjetti,_ argued Tommy.  _And so is Rocky—who still has his powers.  Is there a way to bare him from them?_

His thoughts descended into silence.  Seventeen minutes stretched onward.  The tips of his fingers tingled in semi-numbness.  A dull blue stained their pigments.

“Zordon,” he prayed under his breath.  “Did you foresee any of this?”  He buried his face into his hands.

Sighing he pushed beyond his mood and out of his bed.  Reaching underneath his pillow, he retrieved his morpher.  White light flashed from his peripherally.  He glanced down, holding his morpher at waist height.

A miniscule comet of white energy circled around the coin’s circumference once.  The falcon insignia’s eye twinkled briefly as if alight with candlelight.

Tommy twitched his head from side to the side.  He blinked, gaping at the still coin.  The sun’s light reflected off it now.  His morpher did nothing else strange.

“Huh,” Tommy uttered.  “Odd.”  He continued staring.  “I gotta get ready.”  _Still,_ he mused, sliding out of bed.  _I wonder if Sean or Billy has seen this before._

 

* * *

 

Trudging across the barren, lunar landscape, Goldar uttered a growl.  Kicking a mound of dirt, he stamped to a stop.  Glancing down, he lifted the ceramic urn in his left hand to heart height.  “Scorpina,” he sighed, lowering his knotted shoulders and relaxing his wings.

Kneeling, Goldar carved out a ditch with his right hand.  “Sean… you did this to her!” he said, teetering between a growling and grumbling.

With the ditch deep enough, he uncovered the urn.  Lifting it to the stars, he gazed at it and then the universe beyond, keening through a hiss.  Blinking his red eyes, he poured Scorpina’s remains into the ditch.  Growling and crooning, he swept the lighter lunar dirt over the ashes.

Ruby, flickering light danced beyond the grave.  A woman cackled at him.  Lifting his head, Goldar sneered at the newcomer.  “Get out of here, you bat!”

Rita scowled at him.  “You forget dog-breath that Scorpina was my friend, too.”

“Yesss.” Goldar jabbed a finger toward her.  “But you never married her!”

“As if!  I’m already divorced and couldn’t be prouder.”

“Right,” Goldar growled, his voice wet with sarcasm.

“Oh, shut up or I won’t say why I’ve come.”

Goldar closed his fingers around the hilt of his sword, poised to pull it from his belt.  “Let’s say you never did.”

“Careful.”  She held up a finger.  “I may surprise you.”

Skepticism steamed about Goldar’s brain as he fought off his craving to stab Rita Repulsa.  _Jason would not forgive me if I struck her,_ he thought, knowing that their group could not handle another lost.  Still, he hated Rita.  Ever since Goldar had mutinied against Rita by swearing his sole allegiance to Lord Zedd upon the ‘True Emperor’s’ return, Rita and Goldar had rarely seen eye to eye.  Scorpina had been one of those rarities.  It was clear—or at least appeared to be clear—that Rita was here for Scorpina and not for Goldar.  Regardless he curled his lip.  Sneering again, he stood.  “What do you want, witch?”

Rita smiled.  “Ah.  I just may have the scheme for Scorpina to be avenged.”  Lifting her staff, she pointed its top at the burial spot.  “Hah!” she shouted, shooting a red-orange beam at it from her large, ruby colored jewel.

“What are you doing!?” he demanded.  He stepped toward her, ready to pounce.

Rita abated, a grin shining upon her face.  “Don’t worry; I didn’t desecrate her.”

Goldar tilted his face, squeezing his sword hit.  “What do you mean?”

“Ha-ha!  You’ll find out.  Have you ever heard the story of Orion and Scorpio?”  She split into numerous flying flames dissolving into the lunar atmosphere.

“Rita!” Goldar called out, pacing and shaking his now drawn sword to the stars.  “Lord Zedd’s not gonna like this.”

“Can it, you stupid monkey!” the witch shouted from afar.  “I have Lord Zedd’s approval.  Just wait three days and you’ll see Scorpina avenged.”

Turning, his shoulders hunched and wings flared, Goldar sneered in the direction of the Lord Zedd’s palace.  “Curse you, Rita Repulsa!”


	2. Facing the Day

Dressed in his ruby tie, olive dress shirt, and dark slacks and with his skin a semi-pale, Dr. Tommy Oliver strolled through the front entrance of Reefside High School’s main building, navigating through the hive of teenage students.

“Dr. Oliver, one moment,” called out Meghan, the receptionist.  “Good morning.”  Flashing a smile, she handed him a couple of sealed white business envelopes.  “These memos were just dropped off for you.”

“Ah, thank you,” Tommy said, grasping the envelopes and opening them.  Taking out the documents, he skimmed through them.

“Running a bit late?” she added, dipping her head in silent amusement.

“Just navigating the never ending turmoil of life,” Tommy answered.  He flicked a finger at his hair.  “Even my hair gel didn’t want to cooperate today.”  While the hairs along the sides of his head stabbed outward like porcupine quills, his bangs fell forward in a style Trent Mercer, the former DinoThunder White Ranger, could have pulled off but not Tommy.

Meghan chuckled.  “Well, I think it looks smashing, Dr. Oliver.”

A twinge of a grin tugged a corner of Tommy’s mouth.  Lifting his head, he flicked the envelopes toward Meghan, the papers rattling against each other.  “Thanks for these.”

“No problem.  Excuse me,” she added, pointing at a student.  “That is not appropriate dress wear.”

Ignoring the infraction, Tommy strolled away, heading for his classroom.  _One hour at a time,_ he chanted, avoiding the looks of those about him.  _At least it’s not a test day,_ he reminded himself.  _All these lectures should keep me distracted._ He frowned.  _At least until I talk about the Tyrannosaurs Rex.  Jason’s first zord._

_Bad idea!_ he interrupted, but too late.

Each of Jason’s zords flashed through his head:  Tyrannosaurs Dinozord, Red Dragon Thunderzord (modeled after a Chinese dragon), the Warrior Wheel, and Pyramidas, the colossal pyramid-shaped zord/space ship of the Gold Ranger, used to create the Zeo Ultrazord.  Riding on a roaring gale, images from several past battles, both zord and ground based from Mighty Morphin’ through Turbo, swept through his mind.  Wincing, Tommy halted only a few doors from his classroom, staggering and slumping into the wall on his right.  Squeezing his eyes, he rubbed his right temple.

_Quiet,_ he begged, tensing his cheeks.   _Be quiet!  Not NOW!_ he shouted firmly.  The images shut down.  Opening his eyes, he straightened up.  Glaring down the hall, he stormed toward his classroom, his frustration ebbing.  Sweeping into the room, his frustration now evaporated, he sauntered to his desk.  “Good morning, class,” he greeted over the murmurs and various discussions of his homeroom as he set his briefcase atop his desk.

Taking the cue, everyone filed into his or her seats.

“How was everyone’s weekend?” Dr. Oliver asked, glancing about the room, his body smooth with good humor; his angst now a dwindled memory.  No one answered.  Dr. Oliver held out his arms, shrugging slightly, but still keeping his casual but firm authority.  “Come on.  I know you have some stuff to talk about.”  Teenagers always did.

One student raised his hand.  Tommy pointed to him.  “Go ahead, Tyler.”

“Dr. O, what was the deal with that monster attack near City Hall?”

“Yeah, we haven’t had one in months,” chimed in Tina, another student.  Five others whispered amongst themselves, some grumbling.

“Settle down, please,” Tommy instructed, ignoring the jerk in his throat.  “Before I answer that, was anyone near that particular attack?” he added, sweeping his gaze over the thirty-two students.

Many shook their heads while many either answered or mumbled “no”.   Three said nothing but glanced at their classmates.

“How ’bout anyone you know?  Relatives?  Friends?”

His students shook his and her heads.

Despite his blooming relief, Tommy kept his voice even and professional, trying to ignore the knot twisting in his stomach.  “Good.  I’m glad you were safe.  From what I saw, that was an intense battle.  To answer your question, Tyler, we can’t always know when an attack like that is going to happen.”

“But there was a giant Power Ranger!” Tyler exclaimed, his eyes almost popping with excitement.  “Who could predict that?!”

_Hard to predict something that’s only happened three times before,_ Tommy thought to himself.  _Thankfully, nowhere near here._   Glad that he would not divulge this to his students, Tommy inclined his head.  “That’s right.”

“Plus those recent attacks in Angel Grove,” Tina added.

Tommy sighed, adjusting his glasses.  “Many of these things can’t be explained,” he confessed.  “Science can only tell us so much.  What’s important now is to continue forward but being careful.  These aren’t just isolated incidents specific to one region—as you’ve pointed out.  We’ll just have to take these like a natural disaster.”  He sat in his chair.  “You can’t predict when some of them will occur but you know they’re there and that they’ll happen.  Same thing goes for life.  We can prepare ourselves as much as we want but sometimes it isn’t enough.”  His gaze faltered to the floor, distraction swaying his focus.  Catching himself, he shifted back to his students immediately, hoping no one noticed the slacking in his face.  “Still, unless I’m mistaken, the sun’s outside today and I haven’t seen an enormous monster trampling through Reefside.  Right?”

Some students chuckled.  Most of them nodded.  A few murmured, “Yeah.”

Tommy flashed a smile, its warmth rippling through his face.  Knots remained in his shoulders though but he continued.  “Good.  Then I’m not crazy.  Of course if I was then you’d be in a lot of trouble, right?”

Snorts of laughter popped out from the chuckles and giggles sounding from his students.

Chuckles rumbled within Tommy’s chest.  “Now speaking of giants, can anyone think of any prehistoric animals that were just as tall?”

Addison raised her hand.  Tommy pointed to the student.  “Sauropods?” she asked.

“Okay.  Can you tell me specifically?”

A steady _uh_ slid from her mouth.

Tommy stared at her for a handful of seconds, curious if she knew the answer.   Most of the class did also, twisting in their chairs.  It being only the third week, Tommy had not lectured on the Mesozoic Era but he thought this would be a good way to gauge their knowledge without a pop quiz.

Leaping to his feet, Tommy swept his gaze about the class in general.  “While she’s thinking about that, let me reiterate to you all that the counselors’ offices and all of the teachers are available should you feel the need to talk.  I see that a lot of you are concerned.  Don’t hesitate just because you think your friends will think you’re weak.  You’re not for coming forward.  Let me also stress that this is not a time to harass your fellow students.  This is a scary time we’re facing especially since these attacks aren’t isolated to one city like last year.”

Tyler raised his hand.  Others fidgeted, showing without realizing they were that statements were forming on their tongues but they refused to voice them.  It should be easy for them given last year, Tommy mentally remarked but he understood why.  Being a veteran Ranger and despite his sarcasm, Tommy knew that this year was different for everyone involved—even the civilians.

Tommy pointed at Tyler.  “Yes?”

“Do you think these attacks are gonna spread?” Tyler asked.

Tommy gave a quick shrug, pushing his anxiety further away.  “Probably,” he admitted.  “Based on what’s happened already, it’s likely.  Sometimes extrapolations can be gruesome, right?”  Gloom descended upon many of his students’ faces.  “But it serves us in preparing for possibilities.  We can’t control how this carnage manifests,” he continued, “but we can control how we conduct ourselves through them.  How?  By being safe:  physically, mentally, and emotionally.  So take advantage of your resources.  If you don’t feel comfortable talking to adults or your parents, talk to your friends.  Most important though, live your lives.”

The bell rang.  Tommy spread out his arms in welcome.  “Alright, first period starts right now.  Addison, do you have an answer for me?”

“Apatosaurus?”

Tommy snapped his fingers at her.  “Correct but they weren’t the biggest Sauropods—and they wouldn’t have been been as big as those giants.”  Returning to the black board, he grabbed some chalk.  Catching the cue, most of his students opened up their notebooks and grabbed pencils and pens.

Tommy continued discussing the Jurassic period, periodically glancing and peering out the windows.  Only the breeze rustling through the trees disturbed the campus.  Nevertheless, Tommy did not relax.  Period after period he slugged on, giving lectures, answering questions (correctly this time), and handing out assignments.  Lunch finally arriving he retreated to the teacher’s lounge, inhaling the fruit and spinach salad sprinkled with mozzarella cheese he had hurriedly made that morning.  _Eventually, I have to get some groceries,_ he realized.  Dropping his fork in his salad bowl, he grabbed a pen and scribbled a reminder on a sticky note.

“Should be easy on a quiet day,” he muttered.  Immediately, he closed his eyes, cursing himself for the jinx he knew lay ahead.  _As if I don’t have enough distracting me today,_ he mentally growled.

Ironically, he breezed through sixth and seventh period without seeing so much as a tenga feather.  When the bell rang for school dismissal Tommy remained on guard (though masking it well); certain one of Jason’s forces would strike.  _This is the perfect time,_ he thought.  _Perfect place.  Multiple casualties… and it’d be my fault._

Cars came and left.  Students and staff departed.  Finally at four o’clock Tommy relaxed, convinced Jason was not going to attack.

_Maybe I should see the counselor,_ he joked, scoffing at his hypocrisy.  Sneering, he heeded for his jeep, passing through the nearly vacant lot.  A grin poked into his checks.

Lightning struck thrice between him and his jeep and Lord Zedd materialized.

Only ten feet away from the emperor, Tommy started, skittering back a further foot.  His heart pounding twice as fast, he squeezed his hands into fists, unable to bring them together to call for help or to defend.  “Guess I was right,” he grumbled.

The emperor nodded.  “Yes,” he hissed.

“You’re getting cocky, Zedd,” Tommy bluffed.  “Last time we fought, I broke your staff.”

“But do you really think that I teleported down here to battle you?”

“You’re Lord Zedd,” Tommy retorted.  “You can do almost anything.”

“Ahh, but should we fight now?  Tell me, how are you feeling today?”

Tommy glared at the emperor, tensing his cheeks.  “Like I’d tell you.”

Zedd cocked his head to the side.  “Oh, then why don’t I take a look?”  Immediately, he shot his supervision into Tommy’s brain.

Wincing, Tommy clutched the sides of his head, cowering to his knees.

“Aww, what sweet memories you’ve recalled today.  Such precious students.”

“Stop!” Tommy wailed, dropping to his side.

Zedd abated.  A tendril of ruby and white energy surged down his right arm, spilling and splashing up and down the shaft of his staff; the cold steel flushed.

Sprawled forward and gasping, Tommy opened his eyes.  Gaping upward at Zedd, he stomped and pushed himself to stand.

Flicking his staff, Lord Zedd shot Tommy in the chest, knocking him onto his back.  Tommy groaned, numbness surging through his torso and shoulders.Dazed, he lay there.  Struggling and gritting his teeth, he squinted over his cheekbones at Zedd.   _I should’ve morphed,_ he thought.

Cackling, Lord Zedd stood over him.  Tossing a discharge of lighting into the sky, he vanished.

“Dr. O?!” yelled a male voice.

Gripping his chest, Tommy rolled onto his side, pain piercing his numbness there.  Wincing, he glanced in the voice’s direction.  Connor McKnight, the new soccer coach, and former DinoThunder Red Ranger, ran to his former teacher, kneeling immediately at Tommy’s side.

“I saw what happened,” the nineteen year old, high school graduate said.  “How can I help?”

Tommy glanced at his chest and sighed, seeing his intact clothes.  Pushing himself to sit up, Tommy grimaced. “No, I’ll be okay,” he winced.  “He only stunned me.”

“You sure?”

Tommy nodded.  “Yeah.  It’s just numb.  Won’t stop tingling.”

“You were hit by lightning.”  Connor rested a hand on Tommy’s shoulder blade.  “I’m sorry,” he added.

Tommy rubbed his chest.  “Don’t apologize for caring.”

“I saw him!  I could have—”

“You’re not a Ranger anymore, Connor.”  Fighting through the numbness in his gluteus, Tommy wiggled to a sitting posture.

Connor glanced longingly down at his bare left wrist.  Tommy noticed, understanding what Connor longed for.

Connor glanced at the spot Zedd had been.  “Was that really Lord Zedd?” he asked.

Tommy looked at him.  “Yes.”  Gripping Connor’s shoulder he added, “Connor, listen.  Don’t get involved with any of these battles.”

“But—”

Still gripping the young man’s shoulder, Tommy shook his finger at the young man.  “No, Connor!  If civilians are in trouble, you help them evacuate but don’t fight in the battles.  I mean it.”

“Dr. O., you can’t do this alone.”

Tommy sighed, and then winced.  “I’m not alone, Connor,” he grunted, remembering that seven remained on his team—a team that had once been an octet.  Staggering, he picked up his briefcase and limped to his jeep.  “Your gems don’t have powers anymore—and besides, they’re on display at the museum,” he added staring at his dashboard.  Wincing, he gathered his breath.  Finally, he faced his Connor.  “Connor… watch after yourself.  Make sure Kira, Ethan, and Trent do too.” he added.

“I will.”

Tommy nodded, turning his engine on.

“Dr. O., what’s going on?” Connor asked.

In answer, Tommy glanced at Connor, his brow furrowed.  His eyes slackened.  Connor shifted, opening his mouth.  Shifting his jeep into gear, he drove away.  At least two miles away from the school he rubbed his chest again, grimacing.


	3. Connections and Disconnections

“Jeremy Scott,” Adam called out across his academy’s training room late that afternoon.

Primed and disciplined, Jeremy sprang up from the multiple rows of children, teenagers, and adults sitting on the carpeted floor.  Dressed in his black, ceremonial _gi_ , the teenager strolled up to the table Adam, reverent in silence.  Spreading his mouth into a smile, Adam, winged by his staff, picked up a one of the rubber banded, rolled up black belts.  “Congratulations,” Adam said, handing it to the teenager.

“Thank you,” replied the youth, bowing.

His emotions rooted in sincerity, Adam stared back into the eyes of his enemy’s cousin—the enemy that Rocky had joined, whose agents had burned Adam’s skin.  Tension tugged Adam’s tongue backward, jerking his throat.  Though Sean had healed the burns, faint, scattered scarring had remained.  Thankfully, his robes hid them.  Adam hopped the scars would fade over time.  Swallowing, Adam shoved his sensations away, retaining the gentleness in his eyes—and his face; then his body.  Without looking away, Adam relaxed his throat.  “You earned this,” Adam said, sincerity shining through his words as he stared into Jeremy’s eyes.  Jeremy was not Jason.  _There is so much in him, though,_ Adam thought.

Taking the belt, Jeremy sauntered back to his sitting place.

“Darrol Stevens,” Brandon called out.

As he had done for the past forty minutes, Adam maintained his composure focusing on the river washing through polished stones within his mind.  Nevertheless, his shoulder blades’ muscles itched to coil and knot.  Thus, he smoothed them down, quieting the fire within them.

“Amanda Terrace,” Katie called out, holding out a yellow belt.

 _Second rank,_ Adam thought, gazing at the belt Katie held out.  _So many of us beginning and then beginning again._   The words rippled within him.

Casually he glanced down at the black belt tied around the waist of his black, silk, long flowing ceremonial _gi_.  The nine narrow golden strips sown into it marked him as a 9 th degree, a level of mastery most martial artists never reached.  His rank was a living testament to the life he had dedicated to the Martial Arts.  Given enough time, he could become a tenth degree black belt.

Adam looked up, recalling the two hundred fifty-move kata he had executed to pass to this rank.  Phantom wafts of the sweat he secreted during the testing wavered in his nose.  The memory of a hand, neither large nor small but warm and familiar, pressed upon his shoulder blade.  Adam silenced the shudder, straightening his spine.

Rocky’s memory was here in this place.  It had been his imagination.  Rocky was not there now.  Instead, Brandon sat beside him.

 _And today I feel like a white belt,_ he reflected behind his gentle face.  He glanced at the list before him.  “Sarah Tenner,” he called out, his voice smooth and carrying.

Adam swept his gaze over his students; the adults, teenagers, and children.  Tears remained distant from his eyes though the sack of sorrow swelled beside his heart.  Breathing through the pain, he focused on the present, pushing Rocky from his thoughts.

Three dozen names later, Adam and his staff rose to his feet.  Their students rose in unison.  Adam addressed the room.  “All of you, I am proud of what you’ve accomplished these past few weeks, months, years.  However long ago you began your training, it does not matter.  You are here because you strove to learn, to grow, to advance not just your rank but yourselves.  You have honored yourselves, this academy, and your instructors.  Please remove your current belts and replace them with your new ones.”

All the students, everyone that had attended the Advancement Testing, untied their belts and replaced them with their new belts.  When finished, they started at their instructors.

“Stance!” Adam commanded.  The room echoed the students’ clapping their hands to their sides.  “Well done.”  The instructors bowed.  Their students bowed in response.  “See you tomorrow.  Dismissed.”

Conversation and wondering rumbled throughout the room as several students congratulated each other.

Adam began packing up the chairs.  “I’ll take care of these,” he mentioned to his friends and staff.

“Mr. Park?” asked a voice.

Adam turned around and then smiled.  Jeremy stood feet from the instructors.

“Masters,” he greeted the others, bowing at forty-five degrees.  Pivoting, he bowed once more to Adam, bending at ninety degrees.

Adam bowed back in kind.  “How may I help you?”

“I was wondering if you could tell us why Master DeSantos is not here.”

Expecting this, Adam refused to flinch.  “Unfortunately, I can’t give you an answer, Jeremy,” he answered in a smooth voice warmed with compassion.  However, firmness underlay his tone.  “It is not for me to reveal.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you for your concern though.  Have you thought anymore about being an assistant instructor?”

Jeremy nodded.  “Yes.  I would like that.”

“We’ll set up your training soon, then.  Go on now and celebrate.  We’ll talk later in the week.”

“Thank you, sir.  Masters,” he added, bowing to them.  Pivoting, he exited the room.

Watching him leave, pride once again rekindled in Adam’s heart, warming his spirit.

Parents approached the staff, shaking hands and thanking them for their help, time, and teaching.  Flashing a polite and honest smile, Adam shook every hand offered to him.  When asked about Rocky’s absence, the staff followed Adam’s example.

When all of the students and parents were gone, Adam corralled his staff into his office, half of them spilling into the hallway.  All of them looked at him, unspoken concerns sketched in their faces.

“Thank you for your patience,” Adam began, knowing each of them were honorable.  “I didn’t want to alert the students—take time from their celebration.  All I can say about Rocky is that he is at a crossroads in his life and is taking a leave of absence.”

“Are you two alright?” Katie asked, stepping closer to him.

Adam sucked in a deep breath.  He exhaled, refusing to hiss.  Releasing the tension congesting in his brow and upper cheeks, he answered, “I am giving him the space he needs to make these decisions.  He _may_ —” (The word stabbed between multiple ribs, scraping their edges, but Adam submerged the pain, rising above it with serenity,) “—be leaving the academy.  However, until he makes up his mind, Brandon, would you mind covering his classes?”

“Of course not.”

“Good.  I won’t be able to teach as much nowadays as my own schedule is going to be a bit unpredictable so I’m gonna need to depend on all of you.”

“Just ask,” Brandon said.

“We’ve juggled classes before,” replied Susanna, another instructor.

Sighing, Adam smiled, eyeing them all in turn.  Respect and admiration swelled within him, sprouting a smile across his face.  His sorrow dimmed, flickering out.  “Thank you.  I will compensate you for this accordingly.”

His staff cheered, smiles lighting their faces.

Adam bowed his head to them, chuckling himself.  It surprised him.

 

* * *

 

“See you tomorrow, Adam,” Katie called, stepping into her car.

“Good night, Katie,” Adam called over his shoulder, locking the front door.  Backing up he turned drifting past his car and past the next door Surf Spot.  Stopping at the sidewalk, he paused.  Looking over his shoulder, he glanced at his academy.  Rocky’s _and my Academy,_ he corrected.  _Park and DeSantos’ Academy_.

They had spent years researching and building this place, spending not just money but sweat through laboring renovations.  Childless, this had been their child—their focus for seven and a half years.  He crept back, his eyes glued to circular emblem upon the side of their building.

Adam peered at the logo, recalling the opening house celebration.  News reporters, sponsors, supporters, friends, and even family had attended.  Even Jason, Trini, Zack, Katherine, Tanya, Kimberly, and Tommy had shown up.  As the flood of memories slammed through his mind, one image repeated, shining beyond the others:  Rocky, dressed in his vested, black tuxedo, his eyes twinkling at Adam after the party.  Despite the publicity, Adam had laughed and chuckled during the party, wrapping his arm around Rocky.

_An hour had elapsed since the Academy’s open house party.  The staff members, parents of child and teenage students, adult students, and donors had long departed since then.  Outside their building twilight had morphed into night._

_In the absence of others, Adam and Rocky wandered through the hallways and rooms of their newly constructed academy, silently basking in the birth of the product carved from their sweat, paperwork, and negotiations over the past few years._

_Turning, Adam looked across the training room at Rocky.  Rocky was already gazing at Adam, pride and love shimmering in his face and chest.  Adam was sure his toes were twitching with excitement._

_“We did it,” Adam finally spoke, his shoulder length black curly hair now tied into a tight bun._

_“Yeah, we did.”  Rocky sauntered toward Adam, beaming a broad smile as he swam in a fog._

_Adam chortled. “You are so drunk right now.”  Rocky had behaved himself professionally and courteously with their guests and staff.  However, no one else was supposed to stop by now, allowing them to relax more._

_Flashing his teeth, Rocky spun around, swaying from his knees.  Flinging his arms, he imitated the backstroke, guffawing.  Sliding to attention, he stared into Adam’s eyes.  Then he bounced his head up and down.  Adam rolled his eyes but returned his gaze to Rocky.  “When I began thinking of building my own studio, I never thought it’d be done in two years._

_“Like you said earlier.”_

_Rocky swayed his head forward.  “Nah nah nah,” he said, gesturing the remark away.  He kept approaching, his feet remarkably steady.  “All publicity aside, we_ did _this!  In another day the lobby outside will be full of furniture, decorations, and then students!” he whispered, giggling._

_Adam tilted his head smirking at the young man._

_Inches from Adam now, Rocky clasped his hands on Adam’s shoulders._

_“You know your mouth might tear if you keep grinning like that.” Adam remarked with a straight face._

_Rocky’s mouth widened and his eyes twinkled.  His slim belly bounced as chuckles rolled from his mouth. “I don’t care!” he exclaimed, his mirth infectious.  “We did it!  We open tomorrow!”_

_Releasing his calm face, Adam wrapped his arms around Rocky’s waist.  Scoping him up with ease, he whirled in place, whooping and cheering._

_“Yeah!” Rocky shouted, punching the air in triumph.  Curling over, Rocky caressed Adam’s head, pressing his lips to Adam’s forehead for untold seconds.  Adam slowed his whirling, and just stood there, holding Rocky above him.  Springing his neck back, Rocky gasped for air, resting his hands upon Adam’s forearms.  Adam steadily lowered him down, feeling no tension within him.  They stared into each other’s eyes, magic connecting them.  Springing off of Adam’s forearms, Rocky and exhaling, Rocky rode his breath backward suspending two feet from the ground.  Floating down thirty feet away, his eyes never left Adam’s._

_They stared into each other, desire firing through their eyes.  Forgetting the laws of physics they leapt into the air, throwing their jackets to the floor.  Catching and groping each other, they soared and twirled toward the roof, their lips locked together._

Releasing his smile, Adam opened his eyes.  A tear fell from it, trailing the edge of his nose than his jawline.  Three sighs barreled through his mouth.  He glanced about him.  An aluminum beer can lied on ground, inches from the building.

Adam pulled back his hand, curling his fingers in dragon style kung-fu.  Bellowing a cry he slammed his hand out at the can, descending to a crouch.  Without touching it, the can ricocheted off the building’s walls, tumbling through the parking lot.

“Adam?” asked a man, his delicate voice riding on the breeze.

Adam spun around, his body rigid as surging hormones readied him for battle.  Startled, he did a double take. 

Hands in his denim jacket’s pockets, Billy stood alone beside Tommy’s black jeep.

Straightening up, Adam lowered his fists, relaxing his shoulders.

“Evening,” Billy said.  He nodded at the can.  “Was that _chi_ or telekinesis?”

“ _Chi,_ ” Adam replied, relaxing somewhat though.  Turning away from Billy, Adam sneered at himself.

Billy shook his head, grinning a bit as a light chuckle fell from his lips.  “Trust me, that wasn’t the easiest lesson to learn.  Sean spent years working that with me.”

Adam blinked, crinkling his brow in pensive thought.  “You’re telekinetic,” he pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t easy to master.  Although when you think about it, telekinesis and _chi_ manipulation aren’t that different.”

“I guess so.  I’m sorry.  I’m not supposed to use that in anger.”

“Then be glad you’re with me,” Billy joked.

“You’re a martial artist, Billy,” Adam pointed out, emphasizing another meaning also.  “Doesn’t matter if you’re half-alien.”

Understanding, Billy bowed from his waist.  “I accept your apology but you didn’t hurt anyone or damage anything.”

“Except the can,” Adam lightly joked.  “Care to give me some pointers?”

Pivoting towards the can, Billy stretched out his fingers at it.  Rising diagonally it glided smoothly toward his hand, stopping inches from his fingertips.  Twisting his wrist, the can rotated forty-five degrees.  “After a while it becomes second nature, once you know your limits.”  Billy oscillated back toward Adam.

“Yeah.  Still having a bit of trouble with that.”

“Here, accept it,” Billy offered, sliding the can through the air toward Adam.

Breathing in and out, Adam reached out his hand, sending his thoughts toward it.  Invisible thin tendrils of his aura licked out from his palm and fingers like tongues of flame.

But the can remained five feet away, held and hovering by Billy’s control.  Adam closed his eyes, seeing the can with his mind.

Opening his eyes, he gazed at it.  Seeing it, he reached out with his intention and _chi_ as he would if he was using one of his arms.  Brushing against the can, his aura then grasped it.  In his mind he felt and saw it quiver.

“That’s all it takes,” Billy remarked.

 _No failure today,_ Adam thought.  _Failure_ , he mused.

The can fell.  Clanging echoed about them as it bounced and rolled upon the cement and asphalt.

“Sorry,” Adam finally said, gazing after it.  “Rocky’s better… than I am in this,” he said, his voice shaking somewhat.  He glanced at the ground, blinking.  Lifting his head, he peered at Billy from under a heavy brow. “Have you or Haley made any progress?”

Billy shook his head.  Stepping onto the sidewalk, Billy strolled to his friend’s side, his eyes open and his face slackened.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Adam sighed, glazing back at his academy.  “You know I thought the two of us were going to beat that old number one rule of business.  I guess not, eh?”  A skinny tear surfaced from his left eye.  It glistened in the street light.  Adam wiped it away.  “Rocky and I were always careful.  Avoided PDA as much as we could—but—”

“Adam?  Have you eaten lately?”

Adam shook his head.  Billy laid his hand on Adam’s nearest shoulder.  “Come on.  Isn’t there a sushi place nearby?”

“Yeah, but umm… I feel like a hamburger right now.”

“I’ve been craving one for eight and a half years.”

“Burgers it is,” Adam said, a chuckle falling out of his mouth.

“How about if I drive?”

“Sure.”  Then he paused.  “Billy, how can you legally drive on Earth?”

“I earned my license before I left Earth.  Just needed to update it when I returned.”

Adam cracked a brief smile.  “I bet the officers were a bit flummoxed.”

“Surprisingly they weren’t.  Or at least didn’t show that they were.”

Adam shook with silent laughter.  Grasping the passenger door, he opened it.  “Where’s Tommy by the way?”

Opening the jeep’s driver door, Billy glanced at the sky.  “He wanted to stay in tonight.”

Adam regarded him.

 

* * *

 

Night dragged on toward midnight at the Oliver residence.

Standing outside, Tommy leaned his back upon the rear wall of his house, his shoulders sagging.  He stared ahead toward the horizon beyond the forest partially lining his property, though really focusing on barely anything. 

Above him, the full moon’s luminous corona spilled throughout the sky, ring upon ring.  Stars shined throughout the nightscape adding their splendor and peace to the nighttime air.  Five constellations, including Orion, popped out through the starry frescoed expanse.

Tommy’s thoughts buzzed within him, drowning out the rustling leaves.

“Beautiful night is it not?” asked a male voice to his left, rising over Tommy’s inner white noise.

Tommy shook his head, turning toward the voice.  Blinking, his eyes refocused the various blurs into their genuine shapes.

Passing soundlessly, Sean strolled toward Tommy, carrying a steaming mug.

“I figured you could use some company,” Sean said.  He stretched out his hand.  “Tea?”

“Thanks,” Tommy said, grasping the mug.

“You’re welcome,”

Tommy sipped.  Surprised by the blend, he squinted at the liquid, unable to determine the tea’s color in the quarter light.  “What is this?”

“It’s an ancient blend,” Sean answered.  “It’ll help calm your nerves.”

Lifting the mug once more, Tommy paused.  Lowering the mug, he bore his eyes at Sean, almost sneering.  “You know, some would consider it rude how you read our minds all of the time,” he accused.

Sean smiled and chuckled, turning his gaze to the stars.  “Tommy, I am not reading your mind,” he admitted neutrally.

Tommy raised his eyebrows at him.  “Really?” he asked, genuinely curious.  Keeping his gaze on Sean, Tommy did not relax the tension around his eyes.

“However, I am reading your body,” Sean continued.

Tommy sighed.  “I thought I was getting better.”

“You are.  Just not enough to hide it from me.”

“So now you’re a smart ass?” Tommy retorted, narrowing his brow but not pressing together lines.  Stepping from the wall, he pressed into the ground, firming his body.  “Look, what are you doing here?”

“That is already evident,” Sean answered simply, his words matter-of-fact and devoid of judgment.

Tommy looked away, allowing the silence between them to curdle.  A moment passed.

“Enjoy your tea,” Sean added.

Startled, Tommy gawped after Sean.

Inclining his head, Sean stepped from the house and strolled down the driveway.

Seconds passed.

 _Even I wasn’t as mysterious with my team,_ Tommy reflected. _Nor was Trent._

Sean continued strolling, heading for Valencia Road.

Tommy called out.  “Thanks for respecting my privacy.”

Sean paused.  Turning around he gazed at Tommy, his face neutral.

“I appreciate it,” Tommy added, meeting Sean’s gaze.

“Again, you are welcome,” Sean said, and with a smile rich with benevolence, he teleported away.

Tommy sipped the tea again.  Soggy bark and leaves swirled in his taste buds as the aroma spun up his nose, like green tea but richer—fuller.  A touch of molasses sweetened his palate.  Nevertheless he was not sure he liked it.  Yet it was satisfying and wholesome to him.  He sipped again, pouring more into his mouth.  As he swallowed his thoughts decelerated, not to the point of sluggishness, but to a steady pace.  Vaguely he navigated through the labyrinth of feelings, thoughts, and memories as ease descended into his shoulders.  He cracked a smile.

However, within seconds, it slumped into a frown as he stared at the moon, tracing its craters with his eyes.  _Jason…_   He drew in a breath.  “Go ahead and send your cronies.  Send Rocky if you want!” he shouted spitefully.

No one else appeared.  Neither the stars nor moon offered responses or changed.

Tommy waited.  Nothing else changed.  Then… just barely, a faint breeze tickled his cheek bones.  Closing his eyes, he bowed his head, surrendering to the night.


	4. Paths in Life

Billy surveyed his sunken friend from across the booth in the 50s diner.  Refilled glasses of water and their untouched burgers separated them.

“You sure you can eat this?” Adam asked.

Billy flashed a grin.  “To be honest, I’m not sure.  I’ve changed a lot since I last had one.”

“How?”

 _Like this,_ Billy supplied.

Adam shivered.  “Creepy.  But cool.”  He broke into a grin.  “Anyway I could learn how to do that?”

Billy shrugged.  _It’s like hearing and talking,_ he explained.  _One just needs the right components to do both._

“I see.”

Grabbing his burger, Billy sank his teeth into it.  He moaned.  “It’s hard to spoil one’s self on a planet where everything is pure.”

Adam sipped his water.  _Burgers and fries are enough,_ he thought.  _Imagine what my students would say if I showed up pudgy._   He smirked at himself.  “They don’t have mixtures on Aquitar?”

“Several, in various combinations.  I meant there are minute amounts of pollution.  Aquitar doesn’t have many volcanic eruptions, for instance.”

“Really?  But how is life sustainable there?  I thought continental shifting was necessary for that?”

“A more efficient mantle.”  Taking a bite out of his cheeseburger, Billy chewed for long time, and then swallowed.

Nibbling on a fry, Adam peered at him.  “Too long since you’ve had one?”  Mentally, he kicked himself.  _That sounded just like something Rocky would say._

Billy shook his head, chewing again.  “No,” he said.  “Dang, I miss this.  My stomach probably won’t though.”

Adam smiled.  “Let me guess:  No foul language also?”

“Exactly.  Everything is cerebral, even their emotions.  It’s… it was difficult to adjust to.”

“We didn’t have a problem conversing with the Aquitian Rangers.”

“The Aquitian Rangers are trained diplomats.  Galactic Rangers were so few at that time that the Aquitians would journey and assist other planets.”

“Like Trey did with us?” Adam supplied.

“Exactly.”

Adam sighed, gazing down at his meal.

“Is something else bothering you?” Billy asked.

Adam looked up.  “Maybe we should bring them back.”

“The idea’s crossed Sean’s and my mind over the years.”

“If we need them can we call them?  It’s not like we have the Command Center or Power Chamber anymore.”

“Don’t worry about that.  Sean and I have that taken care of.  For now, they should stay at home,” Billy added as a waitress walked by them.  “We can handle things.”

“Can you bar Rocky access from his zords?”

Billy shook his head. 

Grimacing, Adam rolled his eyes.  “Of course.  That’d be too easy.”

“In the old days we could.  While we can scan the earth for alien appearances, there are limits to what Tommy’s equipment can do and what we can upgrade it to.”

“I guess Earth is too primitive.”

“Yeah but it’s still progressing.  Eltar was centuries ahead of us from what Zordon and Alpha 5 told me.”

“You mean millennia, don’t you?”

A smile rippled through Billy’s face.  “You’re right.”  Lifting his burger he dropped it again.

“Homesick?” Adam asked.

Billy nodded.

“Let’s pay and go,” Adam said, sliding out of the booth and grabbing his wallet.

 

* * *

 

Ten minutes later the two strolled through the Angel Grove Park.  Silver full moonlight poured through the trees, spraying the path with illumination.  Adam munched on his burger.  Billy on the other hand strolled about with his hands in his pockets.

“Not hungry?” Adam asked, swallowing a mouthful.

“Just pensive,” said the other, looking up at the moon.

“Yeah, join the club,” Adam uttered.

Billy looked over at him, studying Adam’s face.  “You really miss him.”

Adam tittered, looked away, and then looked at Billy.  “Probably as much as you miss Cestria.”

“And my kids.”

“Oh yeah.  That’s right.  Do you have a photo—or something?”

Billy glanced around.  “Sure.”  Keeping his elbows to his side, Billy raised his hands, palms up.  Closing his eyes he sighed.  Then a bluish light, rippling as if shining through a lake, shimmered from his palms.  There, in the midst of the beautiful show, his children’s faces appeared.  “These are Titrus and Arqua.”

Adam leaned in, peering at the siblings.

“She’s beautiful.  And look at that guy; he’s adorable.”  He caught himself again.  That was another saying of Rocky’s.

A smile swept through Billy’s lips.

“You must love them a lot,” Adam said.

“I do,” Billy said, dissolving the projection.  “I miss their eyes,” he added, opening his eyes.

Adam’s smile fell into a frown.  “I miss Rocky’s back.”  _Snuggling against it at night,_ he added.

Time stood still.  Cupid’s ghost caressed their cheeks and waists, breathing upon their necks.  Goose bumps stirred along their skins.

“How did you and Rocky become a couple?” Billy asked.

“Never met any gay Aquitians?”

“Or gay humans.”  Billy pinned Adam with his eyes.  “At least not any out of the closet.”

“Yeah.”  Adam scratched the side of his brow.  “It was crazy.”

“Coming out?”

“To say the least,” Adam admitted, rolling up his napkins and pocketing them.  “You have an alien family.  How’s that weirder?”

“I never said it was.  However, it isn’t as though I can hop on a plane and see Cestria, Titrus, and Arqua.”

“Good point.”  Adam paused.  _We can teleport though,_ he thought.  He stopped his thoughts immediately.  Stopping in on Rocky could make things worse.  Plus, he did not know if he could.

Billy hesitated, detecting vague discomfort from Adam.    Drawing in a breath, he inflated his heart with courage.  _The obstacles we trudge through,_ he thought.  “What are you experiencing, Adam?” he asked.

Adam nailed his eyes to the pine tree he was studying.  Seconds passed into minutes but Adam maintained his stare.  Billy waited.

“He and I didn’t set out to be lovers,” Adam began, his voice trailing into silence.  “But there are some people who—a person actually—who… redefines what love is.  What it really is.”

Billy nodded, keeping silent.  Cestria was his light—his pear in the ocean.

“We’ve known each other for years, you know—even before we met you guys.   Friends, Rangers, business partners—we knew the risks—”

_Wrinkles populated the once dry cleaned white suite shirt Rocky had worn then.  His indigo, thinly black stripped tie dripped from his unbuttoned collar.  Completing the look—almost as if on purpose— Rocky had rolled up his sleeves past his elbows, exposing his toned triceps and biceps.  Staring into a book, he tapped the eraser end of his pencil on his buzz trimmed hair, his eyelids threatening to slam shut._

_Beside him Adam nudged his roommate.  “Head for bed, Rocky.  It’s not like your absorbing any of this stuff.”_

_“Can I do both?” Rocky asked breathily.  Shifting his shoulders and flapping his forearms onto the desk, he faced Adam.  “It’d be great, right?” He grinned childishly, a flash of his former good humor popping into his eyes for an instant._

_Adam smirked.  Grabbing the top of Rocky’s head, he shook it.  “You’re a trouble maker, you know that?  Ever since Lord Zedd put you under that fun spell—”_

_“I’m goofy!” Rocky exclaimed, shrugging his shoulders and keeping them up.  “I can’t help it.”_

_“And adorable.”_

_Rocky stopped smiling.  Lowering his shoulders, he refocused his eyes on Adam.  For untold seconds they stared into each other’s eyes.  Neither were drunk; only exhausted and worn from the day._

_Rocky reached out, grasping and fingering Adam’s upper arm.  Adam glanced down at it, returning his attention back to Rocky’s eyes, blushing.  Rocky grinned, a chuckle hissing from him._

_They leaned in.  Tilting their heads in opposite angles, they brushed their lips against each other’s.  And kissed again, holding onto and suspending the contact._

A tear fell down Adam’s cheek.  Shaking his head he cleared his throat, remembering where he was.  “How much of that did you see?” he asked, looking again at Billy.

“Almost everything,” said the other, catching his breath.  “First time I’ve been able to,” he said.  “My telepathy’s never been that attuned.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re on earth now,” Adam proposed.  He then sighed.  Clearing his throat again, he stared at a patch of quaking aspen trees.  “A week ago we wouldn’t be going through this,” he said.  _Or,_ he pondered but instead let the thought disintegrate.

“What else?” Billy asked.

Adam closed his eyes, seething and then relaxing.  Billy kept surveying him through the dim light.

“We’d,” Adam began, gathering his breath again.  “We’d been talking about…”  Again, silence muzzled him.

“Marriage?” Billy asked.

Adam shook his head up and down. “Mm-hmm,” he said.  “It’s illegal here but not everywhere in the U.S.”

“And now that he’s with Jason…?”

Adam pivoted around, facing Billy.  “Do you think Rocky really loves Jason?” Adam asked.  Silence breathed into the question.

Billy noted Adam’s verbiage.  He pondered for a few seconds.  “If he isn’t, he’s making quite a sacrifice.”

“But that’s the thing.  This doesn’t make sense.  If he’s doing this for Trini it won’t matter if Earth is conquered.”

“Excellent point… if we were simply discussing logic.”

“I just…” Interlocking his fingers, Adam wrapped them around the back of his head.  “I just don’t understand why he did this.”

“Maybe you and Trini should hold a conference,” Billy supplied.

Adam glared at Billy.  “That’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry, Adam.  That was rude of me.”

Adam looked away, gazing into the sky.  “It’s alright,” he uttered.  Silence held him still again.  “Look,” Adam began, “Regardless of his motives… if Rocky comes back, is he going to…”  His thoughts dwindled.

Billy placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder.  “How about if I stay with you tonight?”

“Sure.  Come on.”  Pivoting, they ambled back to the Jeep.

Riding alongside Billy as they drove back to Park and Desanto’s Academy, Adam swam through his churning thoughts.  _Whom do you love, Rocky?_ he asked.  _If… if you come back… who do you want to be with?_

Upon arriving at Adam’s place, Billy teleported the jeep back to Adam’s place, choosing not to leave Adam alone.  Once home, Adam sank into a chair in his living area.  Clapping his hands over his face, he tugged at his skin, pulling it outward.  Slapping his hands to his side, he glanced at a framed photo.  He picked it up.  Rocky and he were rolling off of their couch, exploding with laughter.

“Excellent photograph,” Billy said, gazing at it from over Adam’s shoulder. 

“You’re right.” Adam said.  He replaced the photograph.  “You think there’s a shot we’ll get back together?”

“Do you know if you are finished?”

“Are we?”

Billy did not answer for moment.  “I hope you and he are not finished.  From what I’ve seen you two were happy together.”

“Happy,” Adam murmured.  He smiled.  “We have been.”

“Celebrate that.”

Adam breathed in again.  “I do.  Yesterday I wanted to chop off his head though.  Was I being honorable or just angry?”

Billy did not answer.  Adam looked at him.  “Any thoughts on that?”

Billy shook his head.  “My answer isn’t what you need.”

Adam scoffed, rolling his eyes.  “I’ll see you in the morning.  Help yourself to anything if you get hungry.”  With that he departed into his bedroom, slamming the door shut.

Sucking in a fishbowl-sized amount of air Adam blasted it out, tittering on tears.  Sorrow sailed through and past him.  Leaning upon his door, he thumped the bottom of his fist into it.  His mouth and throat relaxing, he gazed at the bed.  Their bed.  He swallowed the sob running up his throat.

 _This,_ he thought, shaking his head and forgetting the rest of his thought.  Squeezing his eyelids together he sniffled through his mouth.

 _I hope,_ he thought.  _I hope you’re not playing a game, Rocky.  If you are… and Jason finds out…_ He swallowed the thoughts.  _I want you safe, Rocky.  Doesn’t matter why you choose evil; I want you safe._


	5. Punishment

Rocky remained.

The ceramic bowl of water at his feet remained.

The dull stench of his excrements, wafting from a nearby pile drifted about the air.

Firelight from a mounted torch above and behind him waivered and then strengthened, highlighting the minute crevices and jagged peaks edged in the dirt and stone about and above him.  Seated upon the clay and stone dais, his crossed feet remained within the perimeter.  Keeping his back straight, his hands draped over his knees.

Long had he stayed there, (minutes or hours maybe?) swaying his head back and forth, staring beyond the torchlight’s reach, at the darkness masking the rest of the slinking cave or cavern beyond.

Twice he had tried teleporting away.  However, a damping field of some kind prevented him from transforming into energy.

Turning back to the bowl, he sneered at it, itching to slap it across the room.  _Cage without bars_ , he amended.  Devoid of cracks no other light entered the cave.  Shadows occupied the walls.  Rocky glared at them.

 _Tengas and then tengas,_ he chanted in his thoughts, ignoring the dried grime and sweat splattered all over his body and exercise pants.  Ripped, slashed, and stabbed, the remains of his black tank top hung over his shoulders in the still air, tucked in his pants.  _I should sleep,_ Rocky thought again.  _Keep them waiting._

He did not sleep.

Nor did he shift.

The torch had heralded their arrival.

His small breaths barely changed the air about him.

 _How long must I wait?_ he thought again.  His brow hardened.  _I know they’re nearby._

Knotted muscles in his back complained.  Snatching up the bowl, Rocky gulped down the water.  Immediately, a mass of six black feather-falls fell from the sky, fusing into tengas along the light’s penumbra.  Rolling his neck, Rocky glared at the new attack party, pursing his lips.  Letting his emotions fuel him as before he rose, standing upon the ground.

The tengas cawed, flapping their wings at him.

“Come on, tengas,” Rocky spoke, nodding and jerking his head to the side.  “Who’s first?”

The closest one inched forward, pecking at the air and cawing. 

His stream of annoyance deepening into a river, Rocky merely surveyed the attack group, his fists resting by his side.  Pinning his sneer onto the nearest tenga, Rocky breathed out, releasing the tension from his muscles.  He could wait.  His intestines growled once more and his bladder remained empty.

 _I had just forgotten about that,_ Rocky thought.  Class two rapids rumbled within him.  _Come on, tenga,_ he mentally pestered.  _It’s not like Jason put me in Tartarus._

As if hearing him, the tenga flew at him.  Stepping on a diagonal, Rocky dodged the attack, pelting the tenga in the back with a side kick.  Hitting the ground, it slid to a stop.

The five remaining tengas threw up their arms, jeering at the lone human.  They surrounded him, fifteen feet between the nearest one and Rocky.  The tenga he knocked down hopped to its feet, joining the organic cage around their quarry.

Still, Rocky stood, relaxing all tension from his body; yet underneath his skin, the rapids escalated to class three.  Turning his head, he surveyed the three tengas before him, listening to the footwork of those behind him. 

 _My turn,_ he thought.  Dipping his knees slightly, he jumped into the air.  Spinning 180 degrees, he slammed two side kicks into two tengas’ guts simultaneously.  Already cocking his right hand, Rocky smashed his fist into the side of another tenga’s head.  Spinning immediately, he sank his forearm into its neck.  It stumbled into an adjacent tenga.

Seizing his arms from behind, two tengas swung him backwards across the cave into the wall. 

Grunting, Rocky pushed himself to his feet, catching his breath.  He faced the birds.  A tenga leapt toward him.  “What’s a matter?” it asked.

Rocky peered at it.  The tenga kicked Rocky back into the wall.  Bouncing off it, he sank into it, sliding onto his right side, the jagged peaks scraping away more bits of flesh.  Flecks of blood dripped down his back.

 _Stupid_ , he thought, his eyes half closed.

The various caws flocked around him.  Talons poked at his ribs.  He coughed, swatting poorly at the kicks.  The tengas scratched his forearms instead.  He buried his face behind his forearms, curling his legs to protect his torso.

Peck!

Scratch!

Ruffle.

Flecks of blood dampened the crust of grime coating his skin.  Dirt sifting into the cuts stung his nerves.  His energy evaporating, Rocky could do nothing.

 _What if you were fighting Dulcea, Dimetria, Ninjor, or Sean?_ Jason’s voice whispered into his mind from afar.   _Would you give up so soon?_

Rocky opened his eyes, his vision foggy with fresh tears.  Drops dripped onto the ground.  _No_ , Rocky thought, tightening his fists.  “Get off of me, you overgrown vultures!” he growled, opening his right hand.  “APE… NINJETTI POWER!”

His body flashed with light.  The tengas scurried back, covering their eyes.

Extending his hand out, Rocky rose into a lunge, garbed as the red ranger.  From his hand his Power Sword appeared in his hand.  The tengas cawed, jerking their hands upward in front of their faces.

Rocky pointed the tip of his sword at one and then others.  “So tell me,” he asked, advancing two steps forward.  The humanoid black birds cowered, cawing out threats and protests for Rocky to stop.  “What do tenga fillets taste like?”  Drawing back his sword, he raised it over his head behind his ear pointing its tip at the lead tenga.  Sinking into a back stance, he withdrew his blade blaster in blade mode, holding it out perpendicular to his sword.  “Want to tell me or should I find out?”

“Fillet?” squawked the lead tenga.

“I don’t want to be cooked,” said another.  Two others shook their heads.

“Attack!” cried the leader.

Rocky breathed in and out, grounding his mind in sunlit, mountain air.  Curling their claws, the tengas charged at Rocky.  Calling upon the Power within him, Rocky slashed at the first two, kicked away the third in the neck.  Back flipping away, he switched his blade blaster to blaster mode and fired, pelting the remaining tengas with energy blasts.

Landing he crouched, balancing both his weapons.  “Care to continue?!” he asked.

A few groans permeated the air along with the smoke from the singed feathers.  “No,” they chorus, vanishing instantly.

Exhaling, Rocky demorphed, his weapons dematerializing.  Glaring he glanced at the torch.  Its flame flickered, shrinking to a quarter of its size.

“Time to sleep,” Rocky grumbled, lumbering back to the dais of dirt.  Sitting atop it, he looked over his shoulder, craning to see down his back.  In the failing light, shadows covered and exaggerated his scrapes and cuts.  “Too bad I don’t have any antiseptic,” he murmured.  “Do you want me to rot here, Jason?”

“You’re asking the wrong person!” called a growling voice from the darkness.

The torchlight blazed once more.  The voice chuckled.

Alert with goose bumps, Rocky spun around.

Stepping out of the darkness, Goldar aimed the tip of his sword at Rocky.  “You failed in stopping your boyfriend for me,” he recounted, a growl vibrating in his throat.

“It happened,” Rocky retorted, his stomach growling again.

“Foolish human, you have no idea what you’re doing!  Admit it!”  Sneering, Rocky turned his gaze away from Goldar.  “You don’t have any extra evil in you, boy!  What makes you think you could be the Grand Monarch’s heir?”

Turning back, Rocky glowered at Goldar, insults coating his tongue.

“What?  Silence?  Or do you have something to say?”

The taunts poked at Rocky.  Furrowing his brow further he tightened his fist, raising his heels.

“Foolish human.  Swearing allegiance to Jason is not all you must do; and until you discover that you will remain in this cave!”

“I can teleport anywhere!” Rocky said, his temper simmering.

“Not in this dimension,” Goldar chuckled.  “I wouldn’t recommend trying since you need all the energy you can save for your battles.  How long do you think you can keep morphing?”

Rocky belted a hiss at Goldar.

However Goldar simply chuckled.  Raising his sword horizontally in front of his chest, he slid his hand down the blade.  Orange-yellow flames crackled from it, engulfed him, and he vanished.

The torch’s flames dwindled to embers, inviting the darkness’ return.  Wrapping about them, the darkness squeezed out the light.

And Rocky saw nothing.

Nothing came to him in that darkness: neither corporeal nor mental.  Time hovered away but lingered.  The air turned still again, unflustered by Rocky’s faint breathing.

He remained:  waiting.

Instinct urged him onward yet failing to translate the reason.  _There was a reason,_ he thought, ruffling his hair again.  Distracted he slipped backward, smacking the back of his head on the dirt underneath him.  “Ahh!” he cried, his voice echoing back at him.  Shuddering, he squirmed backward, scraping his shoulders against the jagged wall.  “Damn it!” he grumbled, shuffling inches away from the wall.  He huddled into a ball, lying once more on his blister free side.  “What do you want, Jason?” he asked.  “What?”  Squeezing his hand into a fist, he slammed it down.

Opening his mouth, he yelled.  The sound echoed and crescendoed down the cave.  Soon it dulled into silence.  Nothing around him changed.

A tear squeezed out of his eye.


	6. Allies

The two students squared off, glaring into each other.  Yards from them, on the side of the field, Coach McKnight pressed his lips around his whistle, inhaling.

“Terry O’Donnell!” Principal Elsa Randall called across the soccer field Tuesday afternoon.  Connor snapped his gaze at her.  “Is that proper behavior for a member of the soccer team?” she asked.

The male sophomore lowered his clenched fist to his thigh.  His target, a freshman half his mass, scurried away back to his left fullback position.  Bowing his head Tyler glared at the ground, tightening his fist further.

Dropping his whistle, Connor McKnight relaxed his shoulders.  He shook his head, tutting.  _A fight almost breaks out because of a slide tackle?_ he reflected.  _Are these kids really that much on edge?_

“No,” Terry muttered at Principal Randall.

“I’m sorry,” Principal Randall responded.  “I’m having difficulty hearing you from over here.  Would you care to repeat?”

Terry lifted his head, looking into Principle Randall’s face.  “No, ma’am,” he called out louder, the tones of a genuine apology rippling through his voice.

Randall relaxed somewhat.  “Thank you.”

“Terry!” Connor McKnight called out.  Terry snapped his gaze at the coach.  “Pull that stunt again and I’ll bench you for the rest of the year—not just for soccer.  That goes for everyone.  Any of you having issues, work them out before arriving.  Not against each other.  If you have steam, aggression, use it as fuel _not_ as motivation.  Understood?”  The players agreed.  “Alright.  Places.  Scrimmage!”  He blew his whistle.

“Well played, Mr. McKnight,” Randall said, allowing a slight smile.

Connor blew out some pent up air.  “Thanks.  I wasn’t sure if you would let me discipline him.”

“I apologize for overstepping your jurisdiction.”

“You are my boss,” Connor reminded her.

“That title implies that I should trust all of my employees to handle their areas without the need to micromanage them.  I intend to honor that but I felt I had to show myself instead of hide.” 

Connor nodded.  “It’s different then it was last year,” he muttered, unable to state why he felt that.

“Indeed,” Randall supplied.  “Regardless, I still have a lot of healing to accomplish.”

Connor understood.  Going from an intimidating nasty woman to a respectful role model had taken patience, persistence, and integrity on her part.  Some of the faculty was still weary of her, wondering if Randall would ever relapse into her evil ways.  Although the school board had rehired her, they had done so on a probationary basis.  Randall’s physical fight with Dr. Oliver last spring in the front lawn where she had transformed into her evil alias and declared that she resigned had been more than popular.  She had had to convince many on the board that she was suitable for rehiring.  Secretly, Connor was proud of her.  “I must say, you’ve done an exemplary job this season,” she continued.

Connor blushed.  “Thanks.”  He gestured at his team.  “It’s a good outlet for them.  Coreman, watch your left!”

“Actually there is a matter I would like to discuss with you if I may pull you away.”

“It isn’t something that could wait is it?”  Stone Canyon High School had risen from its ashes of defeat since Dr. O’s high school days.  They had beaten Connor’s team twice last year when he had played as a student.  Every high school was improving their game.  Connor needed to prepare his students as best as he could and being present during practices would help a lot.

“Unfortunately, it is important,” Randall replied.  “Paramount probably.”

A year ago, Connor would never have guessed the meaning of that word.  However, after a year of hanging out with Ethan and Dr. O., his vocabulary—not to mention his GPA and possibly his IQ—had increased.  Nevertheless he turned his head, peering at Principal Randall.  “Serious?” he asked.

Instead of looking at him, Randal watched the scrimmage.  “Yes,” she uttered, a flicker of her former evil side resurfacing in the subtleties of her face.

That was all that Connor needed to see.  “Okay.”  Connor turned to his assistant coach.  “Aeson, keep them scrimmaging and then cool them down with the usual routine if I’m not back by the end of practice.”  His players excelled at kicking and passing during drills but something blocked that precision when playing in a game.  They needed to scrimmage more than anything right now.

“You got it.”

“Thanks.”  Connor faced Randall.  “Lead the way.”

Satisfied, Principal Randall turned, heading for the main building.  Connor followed her.  Keeping her face neutral Principal Randall uttered no conversation.  He followed her example.  However a bit of unease crept into him as they traveled.

“I’m not in trouble am I?” Connor asked.

Principal Randall flashed him a smirk.  “Of course not.  I would have told you if you were.”

“Then… what’s up?” Connor asked.

“In a moment,” Randall whispered.  Three students neared them.

“Hi, Principal Randall,” one said.

Randall flashed a polite, genuine smile at them.  “Good afternoon, Teresa.  Girls.”

“See ya, Coach,” Teresa called over her shoulder.

Connor gasped out a smile as they neared Randall’s office.  “You know, I am still not used to that.”

“Oh, you’ve earned your position here.  Meghan, dear, please hold any calls or visitors for the next ten minutes.”

“Understood,” the receptionist replied.

“Please come in.”  Opening her door, Randall gestured him to enter.

“Who’s this?” Conner asked, pointing to the man standing in front of the marble brick fireplace.

Randall closed the door.  “Connor, this is Sean, leader of Tommy’s current team.”

His mouth falling open, Connor blinked.  “Uh… hi!” he finally stammered.  Gathering his wits, he shook Sean’s hand.

“It’s an honor to meet you finally,” Sean responded, tipping his torso forward in a half bow.

“Sean’s explained to me that things are worse for his team than the media knows,” Randall said.

Connor nodded.  “So Dr. O really attacked you guys?”

“Yes,” Sean answered.  “However, I question how he is handling everything that has occurred within the past week. “

“I spoke with Tommy last Friday,” Principal Randall said, “But he wouldn’t tell me anything specific except that he is a power ranger again.”

“Well, Dr. O isn’t the most eager to share about his life,” Connor said.

“A trait he’s had since high school,” Sean said.  “Even with those close to him.  However, I thought he grew closer to your team than anyone else.”

“Not as much as you’d think.  Kira practically had to pull teeth to get him to open up about Smitty—I mean Zeltrax.”

“They were the same person,” Sean corrected.  “In fact both names have been on his mind lately.  Connor, we need Tommy to talk to someone.”

Connor paused.  He shrugged.  “What about Haley?”

“Unfortunately, Tommy has refused that venue.  I am wondering if you would be willing to.”

Connor gasped a nervous chuckle.  “I’m flattered… but—”

“You wouldn’t need to be a counselor,” Elsa interjected.  “He just needs someone that he trusts.”

 _Trust_. _That was so huge in our team,_ Connor thought.  He and Ethan had almost kicked Trent off of their team when they had discovered Trent had been hiding that Mesogog and his step-father were one creature.  Connor shook the tangent away, refocusing on the current issue.

“I must be honest, Connor,” Sean added, “Though this may be unprofessional.”

Connor nodded several times, almost twitching with the speed he used.   He gulped.  “Go ahead.”

“Our team is fractured, incomplete.  And Tommy’s preoccupation (for lack of a better word) is worrisome… and frightening to me.  No doubt also to the others.  To make a long story short, we lack the ability to form a megazord.”

“How?”

“One of our rangers is unavailable,” Sean said gently.

“Look, if you want me to help then you have to level with me.”

“Our red ranger has chosen evil.”  Connor gaped at Sean.  “Since he has done so, we have not seen or heard from him.  I have nothing but compassion for Tommy’s plight.  In fact, I reached out to him but with very little success.  I know I can guide him through this, but he has known me for as long as you.  The defense of this planet is paramount.  Therefore, Tommy’s mental health is essential.”

“I can’t exactly order him to seek help from a counselor without violating the Ranger Code,” Randall chimed in.

Closing his lips together, Connor’s teeth grazed the tip of his tongue, holding it in place.  He peered at the older man.  More events had definitively occurred than Sean or Elsa had explained.  The adolescent in him demanded to know why.  Still, he thought back to Dr. O’s examples and teachings of patience.  _Being a ranger really did change me,_ he reflected once more.

Connor had disagreed a lot with Dr. O during their ranger campaign but Dr. O had never stirred any of them wrong; and in fact, Dr. Oliver’s experience and knowledge had helped them avoid several disasters.  Although they were not power rangers anymore the DinoThunder team owed Dr. O.

Connor opened his mouth.  “I—I get that this is important,” he stammered.  “I do but… I don’t think _I_ … I am not the person he needs to talk to.  He was attacked—bullied—in front of me and he fled.”

“When was this?” Randall asked.

“Yesterday; after school in the parking lot.”

Sean held up a hand.  “It is obvious that Tommy will not converse with us on these matters.  Whom do you recommend, Connor?”


	7. Dawn in Motion and Stillness

Wednesday’s sun rose above the towering hill, spraying the translucent fog hovering over Angel Grove Lake with brilliant yellows.

Opposite of the sun, Tommy paid the horizon no heed.  Sitting atop a smaller slope he stared unblinkingly into the water, sheltered underneath the gnarled branches of a vast Island Oak Tree.  The same, familiar questions ran through his mind but nothing around him offered any answers.

Moments passed on.

A familiar male voice murmured from several feet behind him.  Tommy ignored it.

“Dr. O?” asked the voice.  Tommy ignored it, not even glancing toward it.

“Dr. O!” asked the visitor again.

Tommy pulled his eyes from the lake and oscillated his neck around, moving his shoulders as little as possible.

A black haired, nineteen year old teenager stood there, wearing a graphic white button down shirts over a pair of dark blue jeans.

“Hey, Trent,” Tommy greeted.  “Aren’t you supposed to be at art school?”

Trent chuckled, scratching the back of his head.  “Took the day off.  Not every day I’m woken up by a morphed power ranger.”

Grunting out a sigh, Tommy rolled his eyes back toward Angel Grove Lake.  “Sean,” he grumbled.  His eyes anchored to the water, he twisted his head centimeters in each direction.  The front of his neck stretched, its muscles tightening underneath.

“Mm-hmm.” Trent replied.

 _Is there anywhere I can go for some peace?_ Tommy thought.

Coming into Tommy’s peripheral vision, Trent surveyed the lake.  Tommy glanced at him, then back at the lake.  “This place is beautiful.”

“Yes, it is,” Tommy replied.                                                

“I’ve never been here before.”

Tommy made no reply.  Small waves washed upon the shore, draining back into the lake.

Finally Trent pivoted around stepping more into Tommy’s field of vision.  Tommy nailed his eyes to the other shore.  “What are you doing here?” Trent asked.

“I should probably get back to Reefside so I’m not late,” Tommy answered, checking his watch.  He did not move though. 

Trent snapped his fingers.  “Oh, that was the other thing.”

Tommy pressed his eyelids together, silently praying that the young man did not say what Tommy was expecting.

“Sean told me that Elsa has Billy taking care of your classes today.”

Tommy sighed, flushing it down with a groan.  He rubbed his eyes.  “Thank you,” he said to the air, sarcasm poking through his words.

“So tell me… what are you doing here?”  The teenager paused.  “I took the whole day off,” he added.

Tommy refrained from rolling his eyes.  “I’m retracing my steps, searching for answers,” Tommy said, knowing that Trent would not leave otherwise.

“For what?” Trent asked.

Tommy did not answer.

“Look… Dr. O—Tommy,” Trent stuttered.

Tommy stiffened at the sound of his first name.  In the many months he had known his students, none of them had ever called him that—nor had they used it for all he knew.  The word stung Tommy.  Even though he and Trent had started their ranger careers under Evil’s sway (like various other rangers), a similarity which bonded them differently than with the rest of their teammates—if not more—he had never allowed any of them to be that familiar with him.

 _Tommy!_ Rita’s voice called from his memory, her voice high, strong, and carrying.  _I have chosen you!_   Tommy flinched at hearing it, as if Rita had dug and dragged her nails across his skin.  Still he kept staring at the opposite shore.

“Look… whatever the problem is you can tell me,” Trent pleaded.  “I rejected Kira’s help after confessing what I was.  That was a huge mistake.”

 _There’s nothing to confess,_ Tommy silently retorted.

“I made it harder for Connor and Ethan to trust me.”

“Don’t call me Tommy, Trent,” Tommy threatened.

Time passed on.  Tommy remained motionless.  Shuffling the grass, Trent sat beside Tommy.  “I’m sorry,” Trent admitted.  “Dr. Oliver, will you please tell me what’s going on?”

Tommy lowered his stare to the lake.  “I don’t know, Trent.  Without your Dino Gem powers… I don’t want to put you in any more danger.”

Trent grasped Tommy’s shoulder.  Tommy tensed, drawing in a deep breath.  He blew it out in huffs, unable to calm his diaphragm.

“The world’s in danger so you should tell me anyway,” he said.

Tommy just sighed heavily.

“I know you guys haven’t had it easy this past week.”

Still staring at the lake, Tommy twiddled a blade of grass in his fingers.  “Worse,” he muttered.

“Tell me.  Connor told me what happened at school.”

Tommy sneered at the wind.  “How much did Sean tell you?”

“That you’re facing a former ranger.  He wanted me to listen, not check facts.”

“Sean’s wise; I’ll give him that.  You remember my video diary?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you’ve seen his face,” Tommy said.  “It’s Jason,” he whispered.

A pause.  “Wait.  Not…”

Tommy nodded.  “Yes,” he answered, forcing his voice not to crack.  “At times I still can’t wrap my head around it.”  Sputtering, he stopped, allowing silence to fall between them.

“And I thought our year was insane,” Trent finally said.

“Yeah, it definitely was,” Tommy said, an abridged collage of memories unrolling in his mind.   He blinked them away.  “I’d rather fight Mesogog than Jason.”

“You’ve fought him already?”

“Briefly but it was only a gimmick.”  Tommy dipped his head.  “His.”  He shook his head.  “No, I don’t want to fight him.  More than anything I want…”

Trent leaned in closer.  “What is it?”  Tommy made no answer.

Moments flittered by.  Tommy stared at the grass before his feet.  He plucked a blade and played with it.

“What is it about this place that’s so special?” Trent asked.

“After our last battle with the Mondo, I met Jason here, checking on how he was after he gave up his powers.  Well, like all of us who’d been there, he was a bit down.”

“I bet.  You gave up yours once, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, and more,” Tommy remarked.  He fell silent again, shuffling thoughts and memories in his mind, peering at each one.  Trent continued waiting.

“Feel like going on a trip?” Tommy asked.

“Sure.  Where to?”

Grunting, Tommy stood, stretching his sore calves and hamstrings.  “That doesn’t matter right now.  The only question you need to ask is whether you want to follow or ride with me.”

Trent gestured to Tommy’s jeep.  “I don’t mind carpooling—unless they tow or ticket my car for being in the parking lot.” he added, flashing a smile then.

Tommy snorted a laugh.  “I’ll give you that.  Nah, they won’t tow it.  Come on.”  His smile already fading, Tommy lumbered to his jeep.  Behind him, the grass crumbled under Trent’s footsteps.


	8. Returning to the Past

Standing tall, Kimberly shook her high ponytail.  Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she wiggled her limbs and torso.  Fresh morning energy rushed through her muscles, knocking the last vestiges of brittle sleep from her body.  Trained in her years of experience, she felt the sleep crumble upon the floor, rolling away from her.  Opening her eyes, she leveled her head.

Her balance beam stood sprawled across the floor, waiting and welcoming her.  She smiled, bouncing once more and rolling her feet about her.  Taking in a deep breath just as Coach Schmit had taught her, she strode toward to the beam.

Grasping the end, she swung her torso forward and over the edge, her legs pointed out at perfect 45 degrees.  With her hands, she walked to the exact middle, bending her legs to 180 degrees.  Supporting from her abdomen, keeping her back straight, she raised her hips upward, closing her straight legs together into a beautiful headstand.

Droplets of sweat dripped from her back.  Shifting her weight, she lowered her torso, curling her legs underneath her.  Her toes touching the beam, she rocked backward.  Grounded, she stood.  Without catching her breath, she immediately dipped into an excellent cartwheel, pirouetted, and back hand tucked.  Springing from her feet, she twisted and flipped in the air, her body tightly pressed together with her arms crossed at her chest.  Landing a yard from the edge of the balance beam she spread her arms diagonally up and out, tilting her chest up.  Power and pride drummed in her bosom.

Relaxing, she sighed.  Walking over to a corner, she grabbed her towel.  Dabbing her face she grinned.  Working her routine was becoming easier again.

Bending down she picked up her wedding ring.  _Only a day,_ she repeated.  Slowly she turned her head, staring out the window at her driveway; at the empty spot beside her car.  _Just a day._

She dabbed her brow again.  When Jake came home he would know that she was bothered.  And despite her love and need for his comfort and support, she could not responsibly tell him anything about her ranger duties.  She would be unable to fully share here heart with him.  Even in the past, she had never told her husband that she had been a power ranger.  Questions formed in her mind.

Acknowledging them along with her doubts, she remembered Jake trusted her.  Somehow she would have to measure a balance between her marital and ranger responsibilities and duties.  She vowed to.  In her last year as a power ranger Zordon had told her that integrity was one of her strongest attributes.  Warmed by Zordon’s sentiment, she placed her ring down.  Turning, she returned to the balance beam, holding her head high atop a straight spine.

 

* * *

 

In the afternoon light of Richie’s living room window, Trini stared at her wedding ring, her feet curled underneath her on the couch.  Lying in her palm, the diamond still bore no shine.  Shadows shifted as the day wore on.  Her drooping eyes did not.

Soft knocks from the foyer doorframe nudged her attention away from her ring.  Looking up she gazed toward them.

“Trini?” Richie asked.  He gestured to the coffee mug on the side table.  “That looks like it hasn’t been touched in a while.”

Glancing at it, she shuffled toward the table.  “You’re right.  I guess I lost interest.”  Picking the mug up, she offered it to Richie.  “Here,” she said.

“I’ll get it later.”  Flashing a grin he crossed toward her.  Uncurling her feet from under her, she made to stand.  Richie patted the air.   She relaxed, sitting with her feet curled beside her hip.  Pulling a stool toward him he sat on it, wrapping his feet around its legs.

“You’re missing a clipboard,” Trini said softly.

Richie grinned, sighing.  “I guess I’m inexperienced in this role.”  A nervous chuckle tickled his throat.

“Actually it was part of my training.”  Richie raised his eyebrows.  “And you’ve been doing a great job, Richie.”  She stared at the floor.

Richie leaned in more, trying to catch her eyes.  “Trini,” he began.  “I sense something’s bothering you.  Am I right?”

“I guess you would.  I haven’t been hiding it.”

“I don’t know how to interpret what I’m feeling though.”

“It’s simple.”  Her eyelids slid together.

Still leaning toward her, Richie straightened his back.

“I want to visit the house Jason and I lived in,” Trini said.

Richie swallowed.  “Are you ready for that?”

Not looking at him, she nodded.  “I think so.”  Turning her head, she stared into his eyes.  Unwrapping his feet, Richie planted them onto the ground.  “I want to go,” she said.

Richie slid his head an inch to the left, his eyes spreading open for a second. 

“It could be a trap though,” Trini voiced for him.

He paused, studying her.  She waited.  “Is it really that easy?” he asked.

“Both are.”

Richie breathed in and then out.  “Then let’s go,” he said.

 

* * *

 

Minutes later, Trini stood near the entrance curb of the cul-de-sac.  Pressing her elbows into her sides, she stared across the several tens of feet of asphalt at the split level, Japanese style house directly opposite of her. 

The house and Jason had built a life together; or she had thought.   So familiar for many years yet now it no longer was.  Despite her suspicion, the house looked the same.  But its appearance did nothing to quell the goose bumps lingering beneath her clothes; nor her anxiety.

Stretching out her senses, she probed her yard, her house.  She only sensed the grass and bushes.

Silent as a sentinel, Richie stood beside her, courage steaming from him.

Unable to smile, she distantly thanked that he was here.  To be here alone… even in the day... it would have been too difficult.  Having the others come along would have invited a trap and distraction.  She had her own reasons for coming.  And even though she knew that Sean and Billy would understand, perhaps not everyone would.

“Maybe I’m like Rocky for doing this,” she murmured.

“If I knew, I’d tell you.”

She smirked, touched by his humor.

“I bet Sean knows though,” Richie added glancing about the house.

“He knows a lot, Richie.”

Richie peered at her face.

“Sean united us, Jason and me,” she explained, staring ahead at her house.  “It’s because of him we fell in love.”

“How though?” Richie uttered.  She peered at him.  “I never noticed anything in high school.”

“People sometimes grow to love each other.  And back then Jason needed love.”  Though she stared ahead, she felt Richie’s gaze upon her.  “Especially after he drove Emily away,” she relented.

“I heard it was mutual.”

“It was... but he first voiced it and she reluctantly accepted even though she couldn’t understand.”

“Probably his last good deed.”

Trini stirred, straightening her eyes.  “Let’s go in.”  Goose bumps and shivers sprang up her lower arms.  Crossing her arms, she rubbed them.  Richie followed her.

“Trini Kwan Lee Scott, is that you?”

Still walking, Trini turned her gaze leftward.  She waived at her Alabaman/Italian descent neighbor, tending to some water plots at the first house inside the cul-du-sac.  “Yeah, it’s me.”

Nodding at the middle age woman, Richie kept walking.

“I thought you’d dropped off the face of the earth.  How are you?”

“Oh, just been indulging in a stay-cation.”  Trini swatted an imaginary fly.

Her neighbor flapped her hand.  “See that’s just what you needed.”

“You were right, Miss Ontegino.  Keep up the watering.  Those azaleas are beautiful.”

“Thank you, dear.  Well, as you say.”  She resumed watering her garden. 

“Kimberly and her have exchanged gardening tips a lot,” Trini added to Richie.

“I bet.”

Stopping short of her front yard perimeter, Trini glanced over her shoulder.  Miss Ontegino had retreated inside.  _All the better,_ Trini thought.  She stretched out her senses toward her house.

“Do you sense anything?” Richie asked.

Trini twitched her head to the side.  “No,” she said.  “Strange,”  _I should be able to,_ she thought.   _Does Richie?_  Wonderment nibbled at her courage.

“One step at a time,” Richie whispered into her ear, brushing her shoulders with six fingertips.

Trini breathed in his touch, inflating her lungs.  Shaking her head, she stepped onto her front yard.  Trini stepped again, flattening the overgrown, flopping grass.  She took another, all the while pinning her gaze upon her front door.  Faintly she felt Richie follow her.  Grasping the knob she hesitated, her breath stuttering out of her mouth.  _Key,_ she remembered.  Dipping her into her purse, she withdrew it, slid it into the deadbolt and turned it.  The lock clicked open.  Dropping her hand, she closed her fingers around the knob, all the while searching for any new sensations.  She sensed nothing different.  Opening the door she walked in. 

 _Trini,_ Jason’s voice mentally whispered, the echo drifting on a breeze through a lush forest.

The area behind the tops of her ears tensed, swaying her off tilt.  Swooning two inches, she flattened her hand upon the adjacent white wall, pressing into it for support.  Miniscule sweat dripped from her palms, moistening her skin.  She quivered. 

“Hey,” Richie whispered, mere inches behind her.

Bending her knees slightly, she pushed into the floor with all parts of her feet, grounding and reinforcing her strength.  Trini stood to her full height, starring forward. 

Shuddering, she gasped, suppressed a cry.

“Trini?” Richie asked, his voice coming distantly to her.  “Trini?” he repeated more strongly.  “Trini!”

She shook her head, pushing away the impressions.  Her head dipped.  She grimaced.    “I’m sorry.  He—he’s still very strong here.”

Richie glanced around.  “But he isn’t here.”

“His presence is.”  Drops of sweat moistened her palms.  Gathering her breath, she stared down the hallway, focusing on the air between her and the kitchen beyond.  _Light spans beyond your visual spectrum,_ she recited, calling long buried lessons from her memory.  In remembering and enacting she found old strength within her, strength beyond the power in her limbs.     _And energy, emotion, those invisible to this plane, with my mind, once more I see._

Eyes blazing with authority, she stared forward.  Before her, black and grayish mist and fog covered the wooden floor; not the coiling, pale, knee to waist high mist of Rita and Zedd’s Dark Dimensions, but more solid and taller, as if so dense it choked the very air.

“Trini,” Richie whispered from beside her.

She felt his touch, the warmth of his spirit.  It reminded her of Jason’s spirit but was itself different.  Gazing ahead, she surveyed him with her mental eye.  Rings of red, yellow, and white rippled outward from his core, highlighting his benevolence, his strength, and his courage.  Unaware, she wrapped her fingers around his right hand.

Twisting his hand, he interlocked his fingers through hers.  “Together,” he spoke.

Hand in hand, they crept forward.  She entered the kitchen.

_Trini revolved backward, pinning her eyes on her now shirtless husband closing the front door.  Grinning broadly, Jason sauntered toward her, swaying his broad figure._

_“Jason, I swear,” Trini remarked, fighting back a chuckle but smiling despite her.  “If you bulk up anymore you’ll tear your wetsuits.”_

_“You saying the sea’s too big for me?” Jason tapped her with his hips, sliding his hands around her slender torso.  “What can I say?  I like to work out.”_

_“Oh, you definitely do.”  Pushing away from Jason, she reentered the kitchen, heading for their island._

_“It’d be something else if I was obese.”  He grabbed his washboard abs.  “Hey, tell me.  Do I look a little flabby?”_

_Shaking her head, Trini giggled._

_Jason pointed to a toned oblique.  “Look right here.  I am, aren’t I?”_

_Her mouth rocked with laughter.  “Stop!  I’m going to cut my fingers instead of this celery.”_

_Approaching the counter, Jason chuckled.  “Blood’s not in the recipe is it?”  He bent over the book.  “Nope.  I don’t see it.”_

_Trini laughed again.  “Jase—I’m trying to breathe!”  Shutting her eyes but still giggling, she caught her breath._

_Coming up behind her, he wrapped his fingers around her cutting hand, touching the knife with the tip of his index finger.  “Breathe, Trini,” he whispered to her.  “Just you and the knife.  Lift up.”_

_Balancing the blade from its tip, they lifted the handle.  SLICE.  SLICE.  SLICE._

_“See?”_

_Releasing the knife, she looked into his brown eyes.  She touched his black, vibrant hair.  “I do.”  They kissed.  “You, mister, better get back to training or your coach won’t forgive you.”_

_Jason raised his hands, backing out of the kitchen.  “Okay, I’m going.”  He threw on his training shirt.  “Hey, Trini?  Stew smells great.  Do you have time to make all this?”_

_“This’ll be simmering by my next appointment.”_

_“Alright.  Can’t wait to try it.”  Wiping a smile across his cheek, Jason turned and exited._

Trini smiled, rubbing away the trail of a tear slipping down her cheek.  She sniffed.

“Memories?” Richie asked.

She nodded, glancing toward him.  “Let’s keep going.”

“Trini…”

She stopped, gritting her teeth.  Nearest to the island counter, she laid a hand upon it, feeling the smoothed marble.  “No, you’re right.”  She looked at Ritchie.  That stew had simmered through her next two sessions.  That night the two of them had enjoyed it, celebrating Jason’s admission into the XXIX Olympic Games.

“Was I more than just a house-wife to him?”

“From what I heard, you were an incredible therapist, a person that thought with her heart and her mind.”

“I won a kung-fu tournament.”

“How could you do that if you were a complete slave?”

“He cut me off from a part of me that I spent a year cultivating.”

“But he didn’t diminish your goodness.  Think of your patients.”

Turning to the window, Trini stared into the air.  “I should be sued for malpractice,” she whispered.

“That’s nonsense.”

“My patients, Richie.  My patients.”  Lifting her head she faced Richie.  “ _My_ patients.  He had access to them.”

He peered at her.  “You kept files here?”

Trini shook her head.  “No, only when I needed to study a case more.  Even then, I never broke confidentiality and Jason never—”

Richie continued peering at her.

“He never…” Trini started again.  “But...”

“Your mind,” Richie half guessed.

Trini met his gaze.  “Yes, my mind.”  She paused.  “How many of people—those innocents—did I endanger?”

Richie shrugged shaking his head.  “I don’t know.”

“If he could get into my mind, how many other people did he affect?!”

“Trini.”

“No.”  Tears formed in her eyes.  Quivering, she scuttled from the island into front foyer.  “If he could do this to me…”

“But we’re here for you,” Richie called after, his voice remaining soft and calm.  Her fingers wrapped around the door handle Trini stopped.  “You’re still alive.  You aren’t dead.”

Trini spun around, facing Richie.  “But what about my patients?”

“I don’t know who your patients are.”

Trini wiped her nose.  “I uh…  I don’t know what to do.”

“What did you come here for?”

“Then let’s go to your office.”

“Not yet,” she said.  “I…I’m not through here yet.”

Richie bowed his head.  Breathing in, he looked back into her eyes.  Tears glistened behind his lower eyelids.  He sniffled.  “Where to then?”

 

* * *

 

A low breeze rippled through the nearby trees.  Perched atop the stack of boulders at Angel Grove Falls with his feet dangling in the air, Adam stared at the plain, silver ring in his hand.  Beside and below him, stream water flowed downhill through three cracks in the boulders, colliding and slitting off as it spilled into the valley below,

Its sound its sound assuaging Adam’s mood.  Adam looked up, staring into the cirrus and stratus clouds.  For a fleeting moment, a suspended moment, he imagined ascending the clouds, for though the sky was visible between them, they towered atop each other, layer upon layer; tantalizingly bating him.

“So now he’s a master of Earth’s weather?” Adam murmured.  He scoffed, pocketing the ring.

Crossing his legs again, he drew in a deep breath through his nose whilst laying the backs of his hands on his knees.  He blew out the air through his mouth.  He breathed in again.  “Aum,” he chanted, suspending the sound into a hum.  Though his mouth was closed the sound permeated the air, vibrant with life.

His eye moistened.  Adam blinked.  “Life,” he whispered.  Turning his wrists, he gazed down at his communicator.  None of the buttons flashed.  Withdrawing the ring, he stared at it again.  “Whose finger are you for?”  Sliding his gaze away from it, he peered at the valley before him, benevolent and lush.  “It’s beautiful,” he said.

Slowly he closed his fingers around the ring.  “Damn you, Rocky!” he grumbled, casting his hand back to throw it.  He stopped.  Tightening his fist, his forearm bulged.

 _Dressed in his blue_ gi _and clean shaven, Rocky lunged forward into a powerful punch.  Ten yellow belt children observed.  Adam watched from the side._

_Ending with an elbow strike, Rocky yelled.  Releasing his tension, he then pulled himself back to a ready position.  He faced his students.  “That’s the first second half of the kata you need for to get your strip.  Try it with me now, okay?”_

_Four students nodded while the seven others hunched their shoulders._

_Rocky grinned at the four eager ones.  “I’m glad you’re eager.”  He looked at the other ones.  “Being afraid just means there’s only a challenge to overcome.  You’re already half there.  Show me the last move you know.”_

Adam hissed through clenched teeth, warping his lips.  Glaring forward he raised his shaking fist higher.  Then he slammed it into his calf.  Again.  And again.  Grunts rumbled from his throat with each new swing.  Stomping both fists, he yelled into sky, both eyes moistening.

A small flock of birds fled some nearby trees. 

Soon Adam only panted, sniffling here and there.  Seconds trailed into minutes of hissy silence.  “How long do I have to wait, Jason?”

 

* * *

 

The living room.  The dining room.

Flashes of memory came back to Trini as she and Richie roamed through her Zen decorated house, passing the Chinese and Japanese furniture.  Passing each room, certain memories (random in order) came to life before her while others waltzed around her mind:  she and Jason entertaining friends, hosting the neighborhood summer parties, and decorating her home.  Keeping her face neutral, she watched them all, though her heartbeat quickened.  She breathed through the pain.

Leading with her left hand she dragged the back of it, brushing her knuckles and fingernail tips across the smooth, almost white, lime colored hallway wall.  Twisting her wrist she traced each doorframe they passed but she never entered the rooms.  Weary of the mist she took in only the surface impressions, echoes of laughter and joy, and excitement hung in the air.  Beyond her vision and below the jubilant ripples, the blackened mist coiled.  Aware of its presence she refused to connect or channel it.

She glanced downward at the bamboo flooring.  Trini had always enjoyed that touch.  A cone of light shined in front of her feet from her right.  Gasping, she froze.

“What is it?” Richie whispered from behind her.

She did not respond, her eyes frozen to the floor.  Palpitations sped up her heart.  Shivers irritated the base of the back of her head.  Her left hand’s fingers stiffened.  She pressed her palm into the wall, struggling to strengthen her feet.

“Trini, I’m here.”

“No,” she spluttered, quivering down to her knees  Her left palm and forearm pressed into the wall.

“You can do this,” Richie whispered.

“I can’t.”  Slippery with sweat, her arm slid off the wall.  Immediately, she hunched against the wall.

“The door’s open.  You just have to look in.”

Nevertheless, she refused, staring at the bamboo floor. 

“Just turn your head toward the door.”  Richie repeated.

 _Trini,_ Jason’s voice whispered into her mind.

“Stop!” she screamed.  Clutching her head, she sank against the wall, sinking to the floor.  Shivering, hutched over, curling her legs underneath her.  Her heartbeat palpitated ferociously.

 _Trini,_ the voice repeated.  Jason’s fingers slid down her neck, caressing the sides of her upper back.

“Leave me alone!” she wailed.  _I can’t,_ she thought, cringing behind her sweat covered forearms and hands.  One second lasted like four.  She sucked in deep breaths, trying to ease her heart.

“Take my hand, Trini,” Richie whispered.

Still shuddering, she glanced between her pale, thin forearms.

Richie sat before her, holding out his hand with his fingers side by side.  Behind it, his gentle eyes beckoned her, beckoning with glistening agape.

Trini’s heart slowed to a jog.

“You wanted me here with you,” Richie said softly.

Breathing through her mouth she nodded jerkily.

“Tell me what you want.”

 _I have to leave,_ she thought.  Adrenaline quickened her heart again.  Unwilling to move her legs, she turned her hand over.  Richie laid his hand across her palm, wrapping his fingers around her hand.  She did likewise.  They squeezed each other.

“Just stand.  You can do it.”  Rising to a low lunge, he pulled her slightly.

She shuddered again.  Trini closed her eyes.  Fear tugged at her throat and stomach.  Panicking she flapped her eye’s opened.  Pressing into the wall with her hands, she pulled herself up, planting her shaking feet under her.  Stepping from the wall, she gazed into Richie’s eyes.

He smiled at her.

Her anxiety vaporized.

Richie tilted his head toward the doorway.  “One step at a time.”

 

* * *

 

 

Flipping and leaping, Adam scaled down Angel Grove Falls, stopping just above the rim of the river.  Mist sprayed the side of his pants and shirt.  He stared into the water, catching his breath.

He checked his watch.  Four minutes remained before his next class and he had promised to lead it.

Closing his eyes, he breathed in through his nose and out his mouth.  His mind now clear and focused, Adam teleported back to his academy.

 

* * *

 

Trini turned about.  Bowing her hand, (her hair now hanging about her face) she focused on the lower floor corner to the right of her of the simple doorframe.  Reaching out, she grasped the doorframe and stepped toward the entrance.  Sliding her back leg forward and brushing her other leg, she stepped, crossing the threshold.

Closed curtains covered the wide windows opposite of Trini.  The neat king sized bed stood against the wall to her left washed in the late afternoon glow.  Stifling a gag upon seeing it, she immediately averted her gaze, shutting her eyes.

The haze returned, surrounding her.

“Trini?” Richie said.

Trini and Richie turned, facing the bathroom.  It was closed.  The door turned.  Lips quivering, her mouth dropped open.

Jason strolled into the doorframe, wiping his damp hair with a towel.

Shuddering, Trini’s mouth and eyes stretched open.  Cringing she staggered back into the wall, hunching over.

“Trini!” Richie called out.  Dashing to her side, he knelt beside her, a hand pressing gently upon her back.  “Stay with me, Trini.  He’s only a person!”

Flashes of her rape rippled through her mind.  “No!” she whispered.  Slamming her eyelids together, she pressed her face into the wall, gripping it with her body.  If only she could teleport…

Her heart sprinted.  Sweat drenched her palms and wrists, trailing down her now pale forearms.  She shivered.

 

* * *

 

Still kneeling, Richie turned around.  Anger pumping through his arteries, Richie glared at Jason.  _This is unforgivable,_ he thought.  _Shallow!_   He looked at Trini, allowing compassion to flow through his anger, birthing clarity within his mind.

Turned away from the action, Trini kept her eyes closed.  Her head twitched atop her neck.

Incensed once more, Richie glared at her husband, the Monarch of Evil.  “Jason, get out of here, right now!” Richie yelled.

“My house,” Jason replied, wrapping the towel around his waist.  “And I’m not dressed for visitors.”

“Nor am I for war.”  Richie fingered his morpher, resting in the small of his back.  “Ninjetti Power,” he chanted, morphing.  Standing he stepped in front of Trini.

Lifting his chin, Jason narrowed his eyes.  “Come for a battle, Richie?”

“I came for her!”  Richie jerked his finger at Trini.  “ _Because_ of her!”

“Because you love her.”

Richie did not stir, rooted in his disciple, outrage, and frustration.

“You can’t protect her any more than you can defeat me.”

“The last hasn’t been tested yet.”

“Are you sure you can handle a Monarch of Evil?”

“Richie!” Trini cried out.

He turned around.  Trini had reached out her hand—her fingers—at him.  Half of her face remained pressed upon the wall.

“Don’t,” she begged sounds dripping from her lips.

Richie whipped his head back around.

Jason, now robed in his black attire, minus his cloak, grasped the hilt of his katana at his waist.  “Well, Richie?” he asked.

Richie huffed.  “You don’t ever fight, Jason.”

The tension in the air grew denser, shakier.  Richie waited for the fire or sword slice.  Regardless, Jason appeared calm, his expression unchanged by even a millimeter.

 _Teleport,_ Trini thought.

“What?” Richie gasped, glancing back at her.

_Teleport me out of here!  Teleport me out of here!  Teleport me out of here!  Teleport me out of here!_

On and on she continued, squirming and shivering.  Richie gaped.  Her lips were not moving.  _How is she—?_

 _Telepathy has its moments,_ Jason chimed in.

Richie glared at Jason.  “A battle isn’t what she needs now!”

“Then _leave_!”

Richie stamped his foot.  _She needs to be here—to get through this!_   In the end, he yielded.  Jason was too powerful for him to face alone and a battle could hurt or kill Trini.

Demorphing, he knelt beside her.  “We’re going, Trini,” he whispered.  Sweat ran down his neck.  “See you later, Jason!” he retorted, scowling at the Monarch.

Touching Trini’s shoulder, Richie sent energy into her.  The two of them transformed and ascended through the ceiling as twin yellow energy streaks.


	9. Among the Ruins

Upon materializing, Trini sank to the floor, pinning her eyes on a corner of Richie’s crimson and cream living room carpet.  Clutching her chest, she rocked back and forth, panting all the while.

“We’re gone, Trini,” Richie said, still kneeling beside her.  “He’s gone.”

Gasping and huffing she rattled her head up and down, looking only at Richie’s living room rug.  Strands of her black hair hung haphazardly in pieces from her once beautiful ponytail.

“Trini,” Richie repeated.

He squeezed her shoulder.  Her heart beat rocketing now, she snapped her forearm up, swatting his hand away.  She shivered.  Nothing else greeted her ears.

She simply focused on the carpet corner.  How could she have gone there?  So soon after her attack?  It was nuts.  Yes, she had encouraged her patients to face their fears by returning to the crime site but the crime hadn’t occurred there.  Or had it?

Numerous unanswered questions buzzed about her brain, safe from her hands.  Her breath still shook.  _Jason was there.  Jason had been there!  How long had he been there?  He could come here!  I’m not safe!  He could have killed me—killed Richie!_

Panting, she snapped her head around, looking at Richie.  Squatting on the balls of his feet, he remained a small number of feet away.  Gently he rubbed his right forearm right before his wrist.

“Sorry,” she said.  No longer panting so viciously her heartbeat slowed.  A dull ache soaked her bosom.

“Thanks.”  Richie shook his head, raising the corners of his mouth.  “I’ve torn my wrist before; this is nothing.”

“It’ll bruise.”  Trini’s eyes drooped.

Richie breathed in and out, feeling his core and chest expand with the breath.  And he still stared in her eyes, a hidden message scribbled behind his own.  She gazed into his eyes, wanting to read what was there.  Then the impulse faded.  She turned away, gazing toward the floor.  The brilliant, yellow and white afternoon sun held none of her attention.  She just stared into the air.

“What can I do?” Richie asked.

She glanced at him.  He was now sitting.   _In a… lotus pose,_ she thought, remembering her yoga classes.  “I didn’t know you were flexible.”

Richie stared back here.  “I like being limber,” he said simply, an innocence penetrating his words.

He surprised Trini.

Richie simply sat there, ostensibly expecting nothing.  “There’s a lot we never got a chance to find out,” he added.

“No… we didn’t.”

“We could’ve.”

She shook her head.  “We shared what we could.”

“Is that the therapist in you saying that?” he asked, flashing a brief but cheerful smile which stretched into his brow.  His eyes twinkled.

 _Richie,_ she thought, simpering at his gaze.  Breathing through his nose, his hissing the only sound, he leaned his head to the right.  Though no longer smiling, warmth radiated from it, drawing her into his gaze.

Drifting her gaze away, her face fell.  She felt the rock drop down his tightening esophagus.  “Richie,” she muttered. Gazing down at her left hand, she lifted it, extending her ring finger toward him.  Richie sucked in a gasp.  Looking up, Trini gazed into his face.  Richie stared at her wedding ring.

“You still wear it,” he finally said.  His eyelids pulled themselves shut.

Trini exhaled.  Floating her hand back it fell upon her lap.  “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Lowering her head Trini hunched into a ball upon the floor, burying her hands underneath her.

 

* * *

 

An emerald green energy column shot over the arid landscape toward a bolder encrusted mountain stabbing from the desert floor.  Landing in the middle of the crevice at its summit, Sean materialized from the column.  Standing tall, he surveyed the fragments of charred tubes, electrical circuitry, consoles, ceramic exteriors, and metal flooring of the destroyed Power Chamber, former home of Zordon.

Reverent to the sacred ground, Sean raised his arms, pressing his palms and fingers together before his chest.  Closing his eyes he prayed, yet before any words were uttered or thought, he sent out his emotions and energy into the surrounding space, connecting spiritually with this focal point of the morphing grid.  Eyes closed, his Third Eye remained open to the cosmos.

[Zordon,] he spoke, his thoughts, voice, urges, and emotion one penetrating sound, rippling the air around him.  Love and compassion radiated from his heart chakra, bleeding into the rest of his _chi_ , natural, and Ranger energy.  [I am in need.  Mentor and friend, I request thee to appear from planes beyond.]

Astute in patience, he waited, listening to the wind wafting over the charred debris littering the ground.

Within a mile to the southeast, a hawk screeched, gliding on gusts.  Fleeing the pseudo shelter of larger stones, lizards and scorpions crawled about the pebbly and sandy terrain, darting for stray bushes.  Aware of these and more, Sean waited.  His feet grounded in the earth, neither his arms nor back complained of fatigue or weariness.  Above him the sun continued its stroll.

[Zordon,] Sean repeated.  Golden streams radiated from the center of his chest.  Green poured from the base of spine, showing his connection to the earth.  About and over his head, indigo slowly morphing into violet haloed him.  Soft and deep blues, speckled with white and gold, surrounded him.  Green electricity surged up his arms, spraying into the sky from his palms and fingertips.  Wind swirled about him, flaying his clothes and hair.

 

* * *

 

Two yellow streaks touched down at the perimeter of the ruins where the front of the Power Chamber had stood eight years ago.

The swirling wind tossed Richie’s bangs.  Shielding his eyes, he peered forward, staring in wonderment.  Yards ahead of he and Trini, a star of yellow and gold and white, all bleeding together, blazed and churned with the winds and motion of an F3 tornado, splashing the surroundings in heightened magic hour light.  Catching a sliver of a blurry silhouette at its center amongst the tumult, Richie gasped.  Goosebumps tugged at his skin.

His back to them, Sean stood at the light’s center, his arms stretched toward the mountain they stood upon.  White light surrounded and beamed through his skin.  Emerald and white discharges spouted from his hands.  His light splashed upon the above clouds.

[Zordon…] Sean spoke.  Sean’s voice rumbled and echoed across the sand, rocks, and metallic/wired debris, but clapped within Richie’s mind.  Stepping back with a jolt—almost falling—Richie flared his guard.  His eyes widened.

Suddenly Sean’s tornado erupted, burning and blazing brilliantly with white.

Shielded his eyes, Richie peered at Trini.  Shadows of lightning flickered from the sun.  “What’s he doing?  Trini?”

Pulled toward his right, Richie turned, looking at Trini.  Through the blinding glare she stared ahead, a fierceness burning in her face.

Wonderment entered Richie’s mind.  Overlaid through his imagination, he saw her aura.  It wriggled, blooming from her feet to her head, invisible energy from somewhere else augmenting it.  Lightheadedness darkened Richie’s vision.  He shook his head.  “Trini,” he breathed.  “I… don’t.”

 _Take my energy, Sean,_ she professed.  Though intangible and soft, her fragility was gone.  Richie cowered at her courage.

 _It is welcome,_ Sean responded in his usual, softer voice.   _But unnecessary_.  Lowering his hands, his discharges abated.  His light dimmed back into invisibility.  The sand resettled and the wind died down.  Turning around Sean brought his hands together in prayer.

Richie strained his adjusting eyes, peering at the mysterious ranger.  Sean bowed in prayer to them.  “Namaste,” he said.  Richie heard him even though Sean was not yelling or calling.  “Welcome.”

Richie swayed, his mind slurred with various impressions.  Fatigue dragged him further down.  “How... you two speak in complete thoughts…. is amazing.”

“Practice, my friend,” Sean replied, ambling toward them.

Richie staggered and stuttered.

“Breathe, Richie,” Sean intoned.  “You have been through a lot.”

Swaying once more, Richie stumbled leftward toward a boulder and hull plate grasping both he leaned into them, gathering his breath.  Feeling stronger finally, he straightened, facing Sean.  “I’m honored to be here.  What…?”  Richie faltered for a few seconds.  Closing his eyes, he concentrated.  Focused, he opened them.  “What were you doing just then?”

“Trying to commune with Zordon.”

Blinking, Richie gaped.  Zordon was dead.  “Is that possible?”

“As much as it could be impossible.”

Richie allowed his shock to grip him for a moment more, staring into the man before him.  Running a hand through his tousled hair, he gathered his thoughts once more.  “Then do you always pray like that?”

“My latest variation.  I’ve been trying this for many months now.”

 “Any success?”

Sean shook his head.

“Maybe you need the rest of the team?”

“That would be wonderful… especially here.”  Sean glanced around him.  His scar gleamed in the sunlight.  Sean turned back at Richie.  “Walk with me, Richie.”  He held out his hand.

Tired and overwhelmed, Richie hesitated but then he looked into Sean’s eyes.  Benevolence, strength, and serenity shimmered within them.  Sean still held out his hand.  Richie gaped.  _How in the world can a person turn into a star and then act as though he had just caught a grasshopper and petted it?_   Not seeing a rational reason to refuse, he stood.  The two ambled about the ruins.

“It is good you brought Trini here,” Sean said.  “And yourself.  This place can help her if she allows it.”

Having forgotten about her, Richie snapped a glance back at Trini.  She had sat on a nearby boulder.  Leaning and hunching over, she stared into nothing.  Breathing out, Richie gazed at her, wanting to hold her.

“It is her depression, Richie.” 

“I see her like that before I go to sleep and when I wake up.  Today… it beat her up badly.”

“Did something else happen today?”

“Surprised you don’t know.”  He wiped his hands on his pants.  “We went to her house.  Jason was there.” 

“He did not fight.”

“Yeah.  A lot of things.  But here… it’s all ruined.”

“Ruined and is a part of the desert as much as our history.”

“But it’s never been cleaned.”

“No.  Once news spread of its destruction and of Zordon’s death, many rangers journeyed here, paying their respects.”

“How many teams?”

“At least four.  Survey the area.  What do you sense here, Richie?”

Richie glanced at several places.  “I…”  He sensed nothing about this land, feeling both fully blind and numb.  Sensing Sean’s prayer had drained many of the reserves Jason’s evil had nibbled at throughout his visit at Trini’s house.

“Close your eyes,” Sean instructed.

“I don’t think I can.”

“Trust me, please.”

Richie did.

“Listen with more than your ears.  Feel with more than your skin, nails, and hair.  Smell with more than your nose.”

“This… this place…”  Richie fell silent.  “I sense… and more than the opposite at Jason’s house.”  His eyelids slid apart.  And with new vision, he took in the ruins, the sand, and the rocks.  Latent energy seemed to curl and swirl about the charred and bleached metals.  “Incredible.”

“Yes, even this destruction cannot fully blot out the good in this place.”

Turning his gaze back at Sean, Richie squinted at him.  He waited, knowing there was more Sean could say.

“Tell me, Richie, what do you know of Zordon?”

“Very little.”

“It is a shame you did not meet him when he was alive.”

“I bet it would have been something.  Sean…?”

The other faced Richie, his eyes gleaming with gentle patience.

Richie breathed in and out, focusing his mind.  Gesturing back at Trini, he began.  “We agree that Trini needs professional psychiatric or psychological help.”

Looking past Richie, Sean gazed at Trini.

Richie waited, his heart rate picking up.  “I know it’s against Zordon’s rules, but—”

“Richie, stop,” Sean whispered.  “I understand your concern and I respect both of you for your integrity.”  He smiled at him.  “I am not Zordon nor would I ever try to be.  I am far too wise to do something that moronic.  You have nothing to fear from me.  And neither does her.”

Richie glanced over his shoulder at Trini.  “But she is scared.”

“Indeed.”

“She’s terrified.  And I can’t help h…”

“But you have done your best with this task during an arduous ordeal.  She isn’t a power ranger so there is no technical violation on her vow.”

Richie blinked back a single tear.  His throat opened up.  He sniffled.  “Thank you Sean.”

The other nodded in kind.

Inhaling deeply, Richie sighed, looking into Sean’s eyes.  “I need to know something.”

“Ask then.”

“Could she become a power ranger again after she does this?  I know what the vows are; she made me swear the same ones.”

Sean nodded keeping his hands at his side.  “Your concerns are valid.  Is it not wiser to help her be healthier?”

“Of course.”

“Does this choice seem wrong in your eyes?”

“No.  I… I’m worried about the consequences.  I never signed up to be a power ranger for life.”

“Neither did Tommy and look at his career.”  Narrowing his brow, Richie peered at Sean.  “This is his sixth time as one.”

“Oh.”

“Take some time to ponder and feel (I encourage both) until you can decide.  May I give you some further advice?”

“Do what feels right?”

“No.  Verify that your choice is right and be comfortable with your decision before pursuing it.”

Richie straightened his feet.  “I understand.”

“Good.  Come.”

They strolled further, back to where Sean had been when Richie and Trini had arrived.  “Look.”  Having kept his eyes on Sean, throughout their discussion, Richie started.  Sean moved aside.  A limestone monument, marked with text, stood planted in the ground.

 

_“I will be gone,_

_But my spirit will forever live in all that is good.”_

 

Zordon of Eltar:

Leader, mentor, and creator

of the Power Rangers

and

Unyielding defender against Evil

 

Zordon’s final words caught Richie, drawing in his attention.  “I wish I had met him.  Hey, this look’s professional!” he gasped.  He doubted that the rangers had ordered this from a memorial service.

“It was made by humans from a space colony.”

“Really?”  He had heard of those… and of the Terra Venture Project to find a new world through exploring space.

Sean nodded.

The two men stood there in eternity.  Surveying the area, their gaze drifted up into the sky.  Richie did the same.  Breathing in, Sean, returned his gaze back to the monument.  Catching Sean’s movement peripherally, Richie lowered his gaze, turning it back to the monument.  Taking a step closer, he rested a hand upon the polished limestone.  A second passed, heavy with the airs sudden and silent intensity.  Richie continued watching.  Clearing his mind, he asked, “This was where his energy tube stood wasn’t it?”  Trini and told him.

“Two tubes actually but yes.”

Releasing his hand, Richie stepped back.

Richie stared at Sean.  “I’d like to learn more.  How many rangers did he help?”

“Since Rita Repulsa escaped from her dumpster, nineteen.”

“Tell me about them.”

“What have you heard from Trini?”

“Plot points, spare facts.”  Richie twitched and slithered a shrug, grimacing in his ignorance.  “She’s not exactly been in the most sharing mood.”

“She’s shared more since she divulged to you.”

Richie considered this.

“Still,” Sean continued, “I will fill in the gaps of what I can.  Let me check what you know.”

They strolled through and around the ruins, following paths in the mountain.  All the while, Sean question Richie’s knowledge.  Richie relayed what he knew, stating that he did not want to hear anything that was confidential to a particular person or team.  Nodding, Sean obliged, filling in the gaps as he saw them.  Sometimes Richie would interrupt, asking for elaboration on a relevant matter before or after what they were currently discussing.  Patiently, Sean answered them.  Soon, Richie forgot his impatience, choosing to listen and inquire later, grateful and glad to be learning more of the legacy he shared.

As they walked, the dry air dragged about them, riding the streams of the mountains.


	10. Where it Began

The skyscrapers of downtown Angel Grove loomed before Trent and Tommy as they drove them closer toward it through the sparse traffic.

”Dr. O?” Trent asked from the passenger seat. 

Tommy shook his head.  “Yeah?” he asked, glancing at Trent.

“You phased out on me.”

“Only in thought.”

Silence wafted for a few more seconds.

“Has it been a while since you been to this place?” Trent asked.

“No,” Tommy answered simply.  “It’s just… well, I’ll explain when we get there.”  Pulling into a parallel parking space near an alley, Tommy turned off his Jeep.  “This is it.”

Trent gazed down the street, at both sides.  “Nothing much here,” he said.

Holding his glasses, Tommy pointed to his right, peering down the alley.  “Look there,” he said. 

Trent did.  Flicking a finger at it he glanced back at Tommy.  “What happened here?”

“This is where I became a ranger,” Tommy said, exiting the jeep.

Trent raised his eyebrows.  “Wait.  This is _the_ alley Rita kidnapped you?”

“Yep.”  Surveying the changed but familiar location, Tommy shivered.  White had been painted over the 90s sky blue paint of the alley walls.  In the distanced, rows of power lines strewn themselves through the alley.  To his left, brown and green bulky trash barrels replaced the dozen scattered aluminum cans.  Even piles of cardboard boxes ( _no doubt recent ones,_ Tommy supposed) littered the ground.  _Someone’s been lazy._

After receiving his own communicator and taking Zordon’s pledge, Tommy had returned to this place where his life had been ripped from him.

He winced.

“So Rita must have been up there?” Trent asked, pointing to the top of the building to their right.

“That’s right,” Tommy said, partially surfacing from his reverie.  “After all these years,” he muttered.

“Sorry?”

“This place didn’t used to bother me.  I mean at first it did but I crossed by here on my way home every day so… I got used to it.”

“But it’s bothering you now.”

“Yeah.”  Glancing upward at the Rita’s position, Tommy meandered forward.  “Trent,” he asked, words sticking to his throat.  “What—what was it like when you and the White Gem found each other?”

“Like I was being pulled there.  I saw my father go through an invisi-portal again at our home.  Only surprising thing is that it took me to Mesogog’s Lair instead of right outside Haley’s Cyberspace.”

“Some of the earlier portals were like that.”  Having helped create the invisible network of wormholes, Tommy knew this.

“Either way, I had no idea where I was.  So I wandered.  Then something shining on a table caught my eye.  I crept toward it, my wrist already reaching for it against my will.  It was the white Dino Band.  The closer I got to it the more it shook until finally it leapt, latching itself around my wrist.”

“And then you were at its mercy,” Tommy finished for him.

Placing his hands on his sides, Trent nodded.  “Yeah.”

“Rita blasted me with her wand, putting me into some kind of forced sleep until I was under her spell and ready for the sixth power coin.”

Trent regarded Tommy.  “Once I found out I was the White Ranger, it tore me up that I had no control over when I morphed.  Soon though… it took over me, warping my mind.”

“You were still a slave to it…”

“Yeah… and it felt normal … until we were freed.”

Tommy stiffened.

“No.  Dr. O, we were freed.  Every time you’ve been controlled, somehow you were always released.”

“Trent, you and I owe our ranger careers to Evil.”

“Doesn’t every ranger?”

“No.  Most ranger teams are forged for goodness—”

“But some are used for evil.”

Tommy held back his tongue, insults wiggling in his mouth.

“But sooner or later,” Trent continued, “they returned to good.”

“Or were recaptured,” Tommy whispered.  _Rita, Zedd, Prince Gaskett, and now Jason._

 

* * *

 

Sitting upon his throne, Lord Zedd spied on Tommy and Trent.  “Aw, you’re beginning to understand, young one,” he said, clicking his fingertips together before his mask.  “Your destiny and fate…  Amazing that your former student understands these concepts better than you do.  Tell me… does your remarkable spirit have limits?”

 

* * *

 

Gazing toward the ground, Tommy swayed his head from side to side.  “I still don’t know how I was released Thursday…”

“It doesn’t matter.  Dr. O, you’re one of the best rangers around.  Maybe that’s why Evil wants you so bad.”  Catching himself he wiped his mouth.  “Sorry, Dr. O. but… maybe I’m right.”

Rearing around, Tommy glowered at the young man.  “Trent, you don’t get it!  From ever since this started, I’ve known what I needed to do.  I’ve known.”  His eyes softened but he kept staring at Trent.  “Jason isn’t possessed, he doesn’t have a mutation, and he doesn’t have another personality.  Don’t try to compare this with Anton and Mesogog.”

Trent glowered at hearing Mesogog’s name, the mutant that had warped his father’s psyche.  “I was glad when we destroyed that freak.”

“And you fulfilled your ranger duty then.  It’s time for you to remember that.”

“I’m your friend.”

“You’re a civilian.  You would only end up being a victim.”

Glaring at Tommy, Trent blasted out a grunt.  “So you forgot when Connor, Ethan, Kira, and I fought against the second Terrosaurus without our powers?”

“I was fighting for my life then.”

“Exactly.”

“But this is different, Trent.”

“That’s an excuse!” Trent fired back.

Suddenly, sixteen tengas materialized around them, cawing and squawking at them.

“Perfect” Tommy growled, tightening his fingers into fists.  “Ninjetti!  Falcon!”  In a flash of white light, his Ninjetti garb covered him, taking the place of his clothes.  “Stay back,” he ordered, stretching out his hand.

A tenga lashed out at Trent while three lashed out at Tommy.

With perfect reflexes, Trent kicked back his attacker. “Dr. O., you were never this protective last year!” he said, fending off two tengas at once.

Tommy ignored the comment.  “Si ayi-ya!” he yelled.  Jumping and spinning into the air, his unused leg perfectly tucked under him perpendicularly, he hook-kicked all three tengas at once in the head.  Tumbling backward onto the ground, they cowered, rubbing their heads.  “These are tengas, Trent.  You can’t beat them as a civilian.”

 

* * *

 

“Aww,” Lord Zedd hissed, “then let me give your comrade some opponents _more_ in his realm of skill!”  Charging his staff, he fired several lightning bolts at the earth.

 

* * *

 

Seizing Trent, two tengas flung him deeper into the alley, several yards away from Tommy.  Lightning struck about him.  Ten fused putties materialized in a ring around Trent.

Glancing over his shoulder, Tommy started.  “No!”

 

* * *

 

“Oh, how silly of me!” Zedd said, clapping his free hand upon the side of his brow.  “I sent the wrong putties.”  He shrugged.  “Oh well.”

 

* * *

 

Clearly winded by the tumble, Trent rolled to his feet and engaged his attackers.  “Trent!” he called out, charging after him.  Four tengas barred his way, pecking him backward.  “Ninja Ranger beams,” he said, shooting a tornado of white energy streaks at them.  Battering five tengas to the ground, the streams swirled and swam across their bodies.  Screeching they scratched and pecked themselves, writhing on the ground.  Running towards them, Tommy jumped, stepped and leaped off of one of the tengas, sailing towards Trent.

Suddenly a flying tenga tackled him from the left, slamming him into the opposite wall.  Ricocheting off of the wall, Tommy tumbled onto the pavement, groaning.  The tenga sprang to its feet immediately.  Stiffly, Tommy staggered, pulling and pushing his torso upward.

“Since when did these guys want to win so badly?” he said through gritted teeth.  Grabbing hold of him, several tengas hurled him upward.  Using his core, Tommy tugged himself vertically.  Descending, he front kicked one tenga and then side kicked another before landing on his feet.  His torso buckling, he gripped his sides with one arm, keeping his right arm out to defend, wincing all the while.  Augmented sped up healing was not a Ninjetti power.  He grimaced.

Trent’s yells and cries shot though Tommy’s ears into his heart.  “Trent, hang on!” Tommy called, watching the circling tengas.  _Hope he’s not hurt,_ he thought.  Tightening his fists, Tommy glowered at that the bird, seething behind his mask.  _I don’t have time for this!_   He mentally shouted.  “It’s Morphin’ Time!” he cried.  Grabbing his medallion, it shifted into his morpher as he stretched it out before him.  “Falcon Ninjetti Power!” he called out, instantly morphing.

“Kii-yah!” he yelled out, sinking into a low stance.  Healing swam throughout his body, easing his aches and loosening the rigidity in his muscles.

Rolling his wrists, leapt forward, bicycle kicking the nearest tenga out of their ring and into the trash barrels.  Landing on his feet, he jumped and spun in the air, crescent kicking a tenga sneaking up from five o’clock.  Hovering in the air, he twisted ninety degrees to his left, punching and kicking two tengas at once.  “What’s the matter?” he asked, sliding his feet to the ground.  “Never fought against someone who could fly?”

“Big deal!” two tengas chided back.

“I’m ordering you:  Get out of here!!”

“Sorry, not gonna happen.”

Pivoting, Tommy glanced down the alley.

Trent ducked under two putties overhead bladed arm slashes.

No sooner had Trent rolled out of the way, then two tengas, closed the gap.  “You, out of my way!” Cocking his hand he charged forward.  Slamming his first into the left he spun around, using his momentum, and side kicked the other tenga several feet away. 

Cawing, the tengas hopped to their feet, crowing and flapping their wings, gnashing their beaks and talons.

Drawing Saba, Tommy lashed out with kicks, punches, and slashes, desperate to wear these opponents down.  Pushing past a two of them he sprinted down the alley.  “Trent!”  Leaping into the air, cocking his left leg underneath him he soared toward the nearest putty, slamming the heel of his right foot into the outer edge of where the right shoulder blade would be in a human would be.

The putty staggered forward, rolling to its feet immediately.

“Dr. O, I got this,” Trent called, blocking a putty’s bladed arm overhead slash with a strong X block.  Curving the putty’s arm to the right, Trent released it, spun around and slammed his thigh into its butt, knocking the putty to the ground.  “Watch out behind you.”

Tommy turned around, dodging the inward flying tenga.  Taking aim, Tommy knocked it to the ground.  He glanced about the scene.  Seven putties were struggling to their feet, knocked down by Trent.  _Incredible,_ Tommy thought.

A second later, the putties and tengas vanished.

Tommy shook his head.  Suppressing a snarl, he surveyed the alley.  “Power Down.”  Demorphing he meandered, awed in wonderment.

“Golden Boy,” Trent said from feet away.

“Huh?”  Tommy looked around.

Holding his place, Trent stared Tommy down, even though he was an inch or two smaller.  “Golden Boy, Zeltrax, the second Terrosaurus, Elsa, _and_ the Ruby Dragon!  I fought each of them unmorphed.”

Suppressing his retorts underneath tensed cheeks, eyes, and brows, Tommy glared at Trent.

“You think those putties could be worse than they were?” Trent continued.  “The second Terrosaurus fried our powers.  We could have died when we choose to fight it unmorphed but we didn’t care.  We were following your example.”

Pivoting his back to Trent, Tommy walked away.

Trent stamped after him.  Stopping inches in front of Tommy, he bared Tommy’s way, glared up into the older man’s eyes were even though his were level with Tommy’s mouth.

Tommy sneered, bottling his growing anger.  Trent persisted.  Irritated now, Tommy looked down Trent, his mouth hanging half open.  Over a decade separated their ages, including most of their experiences—but those they shared (despite the differences in the details) bound them.  Tommy could not forget that fact.  Sean’s wisdom had been correct again.  That irritated Tommy.

“You think the rest of us are gonna do nothing just because we can’t morph or have powers?” Trent flicked his hand at the sky.  “They won’t care about that when they attack Earth.  What happened to you, Tommy?”

Thoughts swam over each other in Tommy’s mind, emotions crashing into each other.  He glanced away, wiped his nose, and gazed beyond Trent’s head, irritated by the use of his first name—something he had never allowed from any of his students.  But there was more.

Refusing to move or relax, Trent remained, staring Tommy down.

“Trent…” Tommy’s voice drifted into silence as his thoughts swam even faster.  He sighed, recalling how difficult it had been for him to talk after reading Kimberly’s break up letter.  Though the letter had been read in his Zeo teammates’ presences, Tommy had retreated from them upon finishing it, spending endless minutes wandering the shoreline of Angel Grove Lake at dusk.  _Maybe that’s why I went there today,_ he thought.  _‘Retreated’ more accurately,_ he thought, his heart hallowing again.  His throat opened, lurching but nothing came out.  Shudders trailed down his esophagus into his belly.

He looked ahead into Trent’s harsh eyes.  Tommy imagined Sean or Dimitria staring back through them.  _Maybe they are,_ he wondered.  The hairs lining the back of his neck stood up.  Slowly he nodded his head up and down.  “You’re right, Trent,” he said, smoothing his quivering voice.

Relaxing, Trent backed up.  “Thank you,” he said, residual anger biting his genuine words.  “I’m sorry,” he added ruefully*.

“I understand, Trent.”  Tommy breathed in deeply.  Blowing out most of his anger, he felt the last remnants evaporate from his pores.

“So, what’s next?” asked the teenager.

Tommy gazed off into the wind.  Continuing to breathe deeply, he waited, allowing his frantic heartbeat to accelerate to normal.  Turning back, Tommy beheld the teenager. 

Trent’s bangs swayed in the breezes, his eyes searched his former mentor, teacher, companion, and friend.

 _You and me both, Trent,_ Tommy mused in thought, nostalgia and memories shifting between them.  In the old teenager, a heart and spirit of confidence, indomitable spirit, and true benevolence rooted in love blazed invisibly underneath his skin.  Regardless, Tommy saw it.  _He’s an adult,_ he added.  _Been one for months now._

The young man had been tested more so than Tommy ever had been in his five previous ranger roles.  Out of all the times Tommy had been evil, Tommy had a retained his ability to choose during only one of those experiences.  Though he had only been placed under Evil’s hold once, Trent unfortunately, had had his ability to choose his destiny slowly stripped away as the evil of his Dino Gem had influenced and warped his personality.  Only luck and/or fate had released him.  Trent was the perfect candidate to accompany Tommy now.

“Someplace more important,” Tommy said.


	11. Monarch and Apprentice

_Fourteen inches long, two inches wide, and half an inch deep, Rocky’s Zeo sub-crystal oscillated before him the second hand of an analog clock.  Streams of blue energy flowed across its pearl colored surface._

_Clothed in a red long sleeve shirt and blue jeans Rocky watched the crystal.  Darkness stretched out about them, filled only by a massive royal blue and cerulean nebula._

_Rocky peered through the silence, transfixed by the dancing light._

_Beautiful, he thought.  His fingertips floated toward it._

Rocky opened his eyes, seeing only blackness before and around him.  His irises stretched opened, starving for light.  None came.

He sighed.  His intestines chimed in.  Uncurling to his hands and knees, he grimaced, the side he had been sleeping on complaining as tight muscles stretched without being warm.  Faltering, his right arm slipped.  Digging his fingers into the ground, he straightened himself, drawing in slow, deep breaths.  His heart scampered in the alarm.

Grounded and balanced now, he reached behind him.  A jagged lump of stone poked his middle finger.  Rocky gasped.  He rubbed his thumb over it.  Relieved his skin had not been pierced, he touched the wall with his hands, tracing the ridges with his fingers and palms.  It was the same wall he’d collided with in his battles with the tengas.

Gingerly he stood, reaching upward.  His fingers brushed the torch resting in its iron scone.

 _I’m still in the same place,_ he thought, sinking back down to sitting.  He crossed his legs.

His stomach growled again.  Rocky patted it.  “Great,” he grumbled.  “I try to be evil and look where it got me.  Why can’t I just do what Zordon wanted and fight against the bad guys?  But no!  I have to be stupid enough to _join_ the bad guys.  And instead of actually fighting I’m stuck in this cave in Hell-knows- _where_!” he shouted.

His voice echoed.

Rocky glanced left to right, seeing no difference.  His eyes burned with strain.

Snorting then sighing, he collapsed his face into his cupped hands, shutting his eyes.  The pain subsided.

For untold moments he sat there, his side still complaining.  His intestines gurgled once more.  “I can’t even see the ground,” he said again.  

He glanced upward.  “But wait,” he added.  “Maybe I don’t need those to work.”  Gazing downward, he reached behind his waist.  His fingers closed around his morpher.  Sighing, his face beamed with a smile.  Slowly he withdrew the morpher.  Stretching his arms out before him, he called out, “It’s morphin’ time!  Ape Ninjetti Power!”  In a flash of light he morphed.  Already, the strained muscles in his side began loosening, their aches draining from them.  _Good_ , he thought.  “It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” he said.  “Activate Powerscope.”

In an instant, an elliptical slab of cool steel colored metal covered his visor, save for a thin line near its bottom.  A red, electronic dot swam across it from side to side, sending out a mix of advanced sonar and radio-like chemical analysis scans several yards through the dirt and stones surrounding him.  Through his visor, he saw the room in red-violet hues.

He blinked, his irises focusing.  Tears dampened his eyes.  He stared before him.  Text scrolled down the left extremity of his vision, reading:

 

ANALYZING.

ELEMENTS IN SOIL AND MINERAL COMPOSITION DO NOT MATCH THOSE FOUND ON EARTH.

 

“So which dimension am I in?” he asked, mentally scrolling through the lists of dimensions he knew of.  _Or did Jason drop me off on a planet?_   Rita and Zedd would have dropped him off in a foreign dimension but would Jason?  _At least I know I’m not on Earth_ , he admitted.  _Where am I?_   Oscillating his vision 360 degrees, the same results met him.  He looked up and down at various angles.  Unfortunately, his results remained unchanged.  On the right side of the visor, text read:

 

NO ORGANISMS PRESENT WITHIN SCANNING RANGE.

 

He sighed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.  _Figures_ , he mentally grumbled.  _The torch isn’t even lit.  My water isn’t even here._   He sighed again, his sound reverberating in his chest.  “Maybe I should just demorph,” he said.

However, he did not.  Whether morphed or unmorphed he was still isolated.  At least he could see through the Power Scope and his eyes were less strained. 

Sitting there, he recalled his recent dream.  Its brilliant and cool mental glow contrasted with the gloom surrounding him.

“Why am I thinking about my sub-crystal?” he murmured.  “But that’s what lured me here.  To Jason.”  He lowered his head.  “Away from Adam.”  A pang stabbed through his heart.  Closing his eyes he allowed some tears to fall.  As they did, a lessor pang poked him.

 _No more lies,_ he thought. _No more justifications.  Goldar’s right.  If I don’t get my act together, I’m dead._

His stomach growled again.  Rocky ignored it.

Closing his eyes and straightening his back, Rocky recalled everything he had heard Zordon and Sean discuss about The Power.

 _…and may the Power protect you._   Distant words of the past, so often spoken then, muttered from his memory.

_A journey into your heritage will always achieve a rich reward._

Rocky started, jumping out of his trance.  _Where’d that come from?_ he wondered.  The answer came.  Delphine had spoken those words to him upon his return from his Zeo sub-crystal quest.  That knowledge now felt… inappropriate somehow.

_Why?_

The faint buzzing of his Power Scope returned to his ears, interrupting his thoughts.  “Deactivate Power Scope,” he commanded.   As if sentient, it vanished.  Darkness swung around him, reaching for the backs of his retinae.

Rocky breathed in deeply, inflating his lungs and spreading his diaphragm.  A blanket of calm swathed his mind, assuaging the prickling anxiety and frustration lurking within in him.  His chest relaxed again.

Resting his hands in his lap, he sank back into meditation.  As the moments tipped onward, he bowed his head.

 _“…which rivals that of the Zeo Crystal,”_ Sean’s voice surfaced from Rocky’s memory.

His head flicked up, grasping that memory.  _What else did he say?_ he mused, squeezing his face in concentration.  He breathed in, raising and widening his chest.  Breathing in again, once through his mouth and then his nose, the tension eroded from his face.

_“A power that rivals that of the Zeo Crystal.”_

_Yes._  Sean had been elaborating about the origins of their current powers when he’d said that.  _But how does that help me now?_

Refusing to open his eyes again, despite the familiar strain tugging behind his eyelids, he sat searching, searching for the elusive answer to his questions.  “Well, obviously it’s more than one answer I need,” he corrected.  “And Jason.”  _Jason,_ he thought.

The memory of them locking lips with each other jumped to the forefront of his mind in hyper quality.  Swooning under brief lightheadedness, Rocky griped his heart.  _Crazy; what is this?_ he wondered.  _Jason, damn… I—_

Only silence came, eclipsing all planned thoughts.

“What is it about you?” he asked the darkness.  “How… how are you… you?”

And a truth shined in his mind, eclipsing his remaining questions.  “I can’t be his heir,” he said, a ravine crumbling open within him.  “I don’t know how to be evil.”

_“Goldar, you moron!” Jason’s voice roared from the dense, wafting, and churning fog of Rita and Zedd’s prison.  Two torrents of orange flames rimmed with red blasted out of the fog, engulfing, battering, and maiming Goldar.  His yells and screams reported and echoed in Rocky’s ears._

Surfacing, Rocky shuddered.  He had slain the fused putties with his powers—his Ninjetti powers, he thought—but… what Jason had done to Goldar was different—came from another place.

“I don’t have that,” he finally said.  “I don’t.”

Lord Zedd’s and Sean’s words of the vastness of Jason’s empire resurfaced, overlapping and echoing. 

Jason—the Jason Rocky had met, replaced, and then served with—could not have created or recreated an empire of its magnitude nor been that cruel—

 _That feels so weak in context,_ he thought.

 _Malevolent_ , he decided, pulling the word from his past.  _A malevolent human…_

_“I’m no longer human!”_

Jason had said that.  In order for Jason to be that malevolent, to have accepted his predestined fate as the next Monarch of Evil, and to have done the actions of the past week, and everything between (Rocky squeezed Trini from his mind) he would have had to have altered his being.

 _So should I do the same?_ Rocky pondered.  He blinked, jerking his head back an inch.  _How?_

Rocky stayed, no longer thinking.  He simply stayed, too hungry to move… experiencing his shock… his doubts… and more.  Ease settled into his skin and knots, uncoiling his knots.  Still, regardless, he remained sitting.  Unconsciously, he demorphed, allowing the darkness to encompass him.

 

* * *

 

Knock—Knock.

Jason stirred from his seated meditation upon the floor.  Opening his eyes, he tilted his head toward his private chamber’s door.  “Yes, Finster,” he called.

“Monarch, I have finished,” Finster said through the door.

Jason breathed in, smiling slightly through his exhale.  “Excellent.  I will join you shortly.”

“At your convenience.”

Jason felt the servant bow then pussyfoot away.

Standing, Jason grabbed an apple from a platter atop a nearby table.  Glancing at it, he then bit into it.  Its juice ran down his chin.

 

* * *

 

A small flash grazed Rocky’s closed eyelids.  Stiffening he stirred from sleep.  _My water,_ he thought.  Groggily he opened his eyes.  A tray of apples, whole wheat bread rolls, and boneless ribs lay before him.

Glancing downward, Rocky peered at the food.  Their scent twirled through the air up into his nose.  His stomach growled.  Grimacing he grabbed a rib and tore off a chunk of its meat.  Chewing thrice, he swallowed and tore off another chunk.

Light smeared his face once more.  Rocky glanced upward.

Arms crossed over his chest, Jason stood a yard in front of the dais.  His eyes, pinnacles of darkness twinkled behind the sharpened spearhead of Jason’s brow, the whites of his eyes smoldering.

Rocky stared into the coldness before him unsure what to think.  Even in the firelight, Jason resembled a corporeal shadow.  A twitch speared through his burn, shaking his hand but he held the rib steady.

Silence continued clanging between them.  Swallowing his grinded mouthful, Rocky did not open his mouth or remove his eyes from Jason.  Looking into the person before him, Rocky finally understood why even Lord Zedd, who had stood against King Mondo, was afraid of Jason.  The revelation fractured Rocky’s composure.  Tittering on collapsing, he froze his upper body.  Breathing silently but fully through his nose, he gripped his fleeing placidity, refusing to release it.

 _Eat, Rocky,_ Jason commanded, his thoughts sliding into Rocky’s mind. Shutting and opening his eyes, his glower receded into below his skin.  Calm neutrality took its place.   _I can wait._   Pulling his legs up, he crossed them, levitating in meditation.

For such a muscled man, his lotus pose was perfect.  Terrified but impressed, Rocky grabbed a yellow delicious apple.  Taking a bite, he remotely delighted in the juice moistening his mouth.   _Strange person, Jason,_ he thought.

Rocky continued eating, but never took his eyes from Jason.   Unable to distract himself from the cold shiver in the center of his back, he finally closed his eyes, sinking into a semi-trance.  Using his fingers, he felt for the rest of the ribs, lifting them to his mouth, he stripped them of their meat, devouring and savoring each bite.

The smell of the meat ripened his senses, stirring memories of when he had BBQ-ed.  The smell of charcoal burning at the bottom of the coal and the smoke—the smoke rising from the dead putty, its stench clogged Rocky’s nose.  Stripping the last meat from his ribs, he paused, lifting his head up an inch or so.  Eyes still closed, he saw the putty lying there, its dark smoke rising over the pale fog churning and wafting over and around it.  Setting the rib bones down, he grabbed the apple again.  Biting into it, he wiped its juice from his chin and lips, knowing they were too dirty to eat from.  He bit into it again and continued, until only the core remained.  His shoulders eased, and his stomach partially satiated, and at least heavier, he placed the core on the tray.  Draining the water, he sat it upside down on his plate.

“You have something to say?” Jason asked.

Rocky opened his eyes, calm certainty replacing his former confusion.  “Yes.”  His patience had proven invaluable again.  Clarity reigned in his mind.  His heart pumped steadily.

 Jason opened his eyes, unfriendliness festering in his face.  “Tell me,” he said.

“I know how you can increase your armies and devastate the rangers further,” Rocky said.

Jason surveyed him, his eyes gesturing for the rest of the answer to his question.

Rocky kept his perseverance, focusing on the present.  He had no way of knowing if he was shielding his plan from Jason this way, but he refused to yield to anxiety.  Jason could kill him—probably easily.  What he did and said were crucial.

“You offered me a place in your empire,” Rocky continued.

“Only dirt covers your blister.”

“Yeah.”  The skin had torn in his first battle.  “It stings like a bitch.”  Jason made no comment or changed his expression.  “So let me prove I am loyal,” Rocky continued.  “I’ll do what you haven’t.”

“You’re spunk impresses me,” Jason said, his expression remaining cold.  “But you’re ignorant to what I’ve done.”  Uncoiling his legs, he stepped toward Rocky. 

“Enlighten me?”  Rocky remained still.  Minute tension smashed together in his lower back.  Remembering his lifelong training, he released the penumbra of it.

“You’ve had days.  I had months.”  Clasping his hands behind his back, Jason stepped to his right pacing toward the wall behind Rocky.

“Monarch,” Rocky whispered.  Pulling his neck he followed Jason with his eyes pinned on the other.  Shivers slid up his chest into his cheeks.  Regardless, Rocky held his acumen.  “You pushed me into your servitude.”

Halting his stride, Jason gazed back at Rocky, moving only his neck.  “And you kissed me.  I doubt you and Adam broke up before you did that.”

Rocky faltered.  Dipping his head down, his eyes fell to the ground, glancing right and left as thoughts swirled in his mind.  _Wait—I,_ he thought.  He glanced back at Jason.

The Monarch’s arms remained crossed in front of him.  “That is why you are unfit.  Why you rot here…”  Glancing at the torch, he nodded at it.  The flamed dimmed to half intensity.  “…where evil controls the light,” he finished.

Rocky glanced at the torch.  His brow became sticky and clammy.

“ _You_ kissed me, Rocky.  I never made you a slave.”

“Not like Tommy’s been, right?” Rocky bluffed, feigning composure but refusing to think of his plan.  In the multitude of milliseconds he wondered, _Was Tommy eve…?  No; remember the strategy!_   Rocky could not waiver now.  He refused to divulge anything of his plans.

Part of Jason’s mouth curled upward, exposing a flash of teeth.  “You’re discipline’s better than when you were a ranger,” Jason said.  “Give me your proposal.”

Rocky breathed and sighed, regaining balance within his mind and body.  _And spirit,_ he reminded.  Drawing in a deep breath, he stared into Jason’s eyes.  “Any advantage I give you will only bring you closer to conquering Earth.  I want to help in that.”

Jason aimed his spearheaded eyes at Rocky once more.  “How?” he whispered.

“You gave me the idea.”  Rocky placed his hands, his right over his left, upon his chest.  Tucking his chin he closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose.  Soft, cerulean blue glowed from his underneath his chest, splashing back the torch’s firelight.  Shadows wreathed his body.  Slowly he slid his hands forward, cupping his fingers.  Sliding his left hand down the pulsing energy spark, he lifted it to his eyes.  The Zeo sub-crystal shimmered and pulsed with its cerulean energy, contrasting with the firelight reflecting off of its edges.  Turning it parallel to him, Rocky held it out to Jason, bowing his head and shoulders.  “Take my sub-crystal.  I’ll fight the rangers with my own powers, and steal the other sub-crystals.  You can build your own team with them.”

Jason remained standing, his expression unchanged.  Then, he smiled, revealing no teeth.

Tension evaporated from Rocky’s shoulders but he held his face’s stony figure.

“Tanya isn’t a ranger anymore,” Jason said, his face and tone perfectly neutral.  “Would you steal hers?”

Rocky did not gulp.   “Yes.”

Silence again, gluing the air together with tension once more.

“Rest, Rocky,” Jason commanded soothingly.  “Rita already has a plan in the works for your friends.”

Rocky felt the outer corners of eyes slacken.

Jason held up his hand.  “I like your plan regardless.  But… ”

Rocky’s heartbeat doubled in the silence.  This had been his trump card!  And he had failed.  Clinging onto the last shreds of composure, his eyes dashed across Jason now neutral face, searching for any clues into the Monarch’s thinking.

Jason stretched out his silence, commanding Rocky’s attention.

 _Idiot!_ Rocky chastised himself.

“And now you’ve failed again,” Jason said, his words gliding upon the stale air.

Rocky refocused his eyes on Jason, sure he had heard wrong.

Jason smirked.  “But not unexpectedly.”

Rocky blinked, furrowing his brow.  His cheeks slackened.

“You’ve had days while I had months.”  Levitating, Jason sat in meditation.

Rocky still gazed at Jason, eager for knowledge. 

Opening his eyes, Jason oscillated his head, fixing his gaze to the left of him.  Rocky kept his gaze pinned on Jason.

To the right of Rocky, several feathery talons flapped and snatched in the dim air.

“Defeat them without morphing,” Jason commanded.

Rocky bowed his face of carved stone.  “As you command,” he said, accepting Jason’s subtext.  Foregoing his courage, he stood and approached the tengas.

Jason remained in the cave, watching.


	12. On the Road

The double story Angel Grove High School stood out from the forestry.  White rectangular columns lined the raw umber masonry, brightening the building.  Turning into the driveway, Tommy pulled into a spot.  Switching off his engine, Tommy exited the jeep.

Snapping off his seat belt, Trent hopped out of his seat.  “You’re old high school?” he asked, gazing at the burnt reddish and black brick and pale cement architecture hosting the school’s name and seal.  Several double doors lined the front entrance, its roof framed by a second story walkway.

“That’s it,” Tommy said, already strolling toward the entrance.

“Seriously?”  Tommy nodded.  “Huh.  Did Rita and Zedd ever attack you here?”

“Oddly enough, they never did.  But I did.”  Tommy caught the look in Trent’s eye, signaling recognition.  “Come on.”

They entered.

A tall, thin man with a gray mustache and hair, both splashed with white, turned toward the guests.  Dressed in a subtle yet stylish indigo suite with his hands clasped behind his straight back he gazed at Tommy, taking in his face.  “Well, well,” he said, chuckling behind his lips.  “Dr. Tommy Oliver.  This sure is a surprise.”

“Good to see you, Mr. Caplan.”  Tommy extended his hand forward.

Mr. Caplan shook it.  “Always a pleasure to see a visiting graduate.  Now, I hear that you are teaching over at Reefside High for the past year; is that right?”

“Yes, sir.  In fact this is one of my former students.  Trent Mercer, meet Mr. Caplan, Principal of Angel Grove High.”

Trent shook hands with Mr. Caplan.  “I’m not sure if I should be embarrassed,” he said, grinning.

“Now son, if you’re misbehaving and not a student of mine, there’s very little I can do now, is there?” Mr. Caplan asked.

Trent chuckled at the joke.  “No, sir.  I guess not.”

“Speaking of which, Tommy, isn’t school in session today at Reefside?”  The principal peered at Tommy.

Dr. Oliver did not flinch.  “Actually I decided to take a personal day.  There’s been a lot of extraterrestrial activity lately and I needed some time to process it, get my head together.”

Mr. Caplan nodded, crossing his arms across his chest.  “I understand.  We had years of it in Angel Grove.  Heck, we thought we were safe until last week.”

“That’s one of the reasons I’m visiting.  I was wondering how your students were handling the events.”

“Coping.  Or ignoring!  From what I hear from the faculty, it’s a broad spectrum of reactions.  Confidentially, I’ve given thought of hiring additional counselors.  It could be costly for the school but I think it might be worth it.  Counselors can only handle so many kids and we have a lot of teens enrolled this year.”

“I sympathize.  That might be a good idea.    It’s a shame they have to experience it at all though.”

Mr. Caplan took in a deep breath, staring at the floor diagonally to his right.  “To be honest, Tommy, it feels different this time.  I can’t really explain why but… well, I never obtained a Ph.D., so forgive my lack of elaboration.  ”

Tommy shook his head.  “I would not think of holding that against you.  Please go on.”

“You’re a good man, Tommy Oliver.  And you’ve just demonstrated the key characteristic that makes an excellent school faculty member and administrator:  patience.”

Tommy smiled, feeling warmth bloom in his cheeks.  “Thank you, Mr. Caplan,” he said, feeling honored.  As he surveyed his former principal, he noticed more lines across the older man’s brow.  Tommy wondered how his face looked.

Mr. Caplan sighed, gazing at the floor for a few seconds.  “To answer your question, the air feels more sinister.  The last time Angel Grove was attacked it looked as though the blitzkrieg had struck it.”

Tommy nodded.

Mr. Caplan turned to Trent.  “Please excuse my low mood.  I hope it does not subtract from your visit today.”

“It’s forgiven,” Trent said.

“Thank you,” Mr. Caplan said solemnly.  “Now,” he added addressing both of them, “Now that I’m done embarrassing myself, what can I do for you gentlemen?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could tour the school, possibly visit Ms. Applebee,” Tommy proposed.  “Take my student along with me?”

“I think that’s fine.  Enjoy yourselves and I’ll see that Ms. Applebee expects you.  It actually might bolster morale.”  He frowned and then quickly removed it.  “Either way, on your way.  Oh, be sure to sign the visitor’s log.”

Tommy and Trent chuckled.  “Of course,” said Tommy.  “Thank you, Mr. Caplan.”

“Enjoy your morning.  Excuse me.”  Beaming Nodding to both of them and beaming, the principal strolled back to his office.

Signing their names into the visitor’s log, Tommy and Trent crossed down the main foyer into the maze of hallways of the school.

“Are you sure you want to do this now—during school?” Trent asked, once alone in the locker lined hallways.  Muffled voices of conversations and teacher’s lecturing wafted into their hearing as they passed each room.

“It’s better for us to be here now.”

“What about what happened yesterday, though?  It could happen here.”

“He wanted me alone.  Jase won’t attack us unless he wants to involve civilians.”

A tiny pause separated their speech.  “You’re using them,” Trent finally said.

“I’m using what I know to ensure a large bluff.  I just hope it isn’t called before we leave.  Or after.”

“That’s a big if.”

“I know, Trent.  But I need to be here.  I need to face this.”  Turning down a new hallway, Tommy stopped halfway down it.  Before him stood a burnt mud colored ceramic staircase, several people widths long.  Rising six steps it plateaued on the seventh into landing, jutting upward to the right three more stairs before plateauing again.  A four columned, three rowed translucent window enhanced the room the hallway with natural light.  Tommy stared at it, his eyes wide open.

“Dr. O.?” Trent whispered.  “Is this the place you did something?”

Still staring at it, Tommy stirred.  “Yeah.”  He paused, feeling Trent peer at him.  “I don’t know.  It’s weird.  It’s worse than the alley.”

“What did you do here?”

Just then the door at the end of the hall on the right opened.  A large middle-sized woman stepped into the hallway, sweeping her gaze.  Tommy immediately bottled his anxiety, supplanting it with poised calm.  Spotting Tommy, the woman beamed a smile.  “Ah, Mr. Oliver!” she greeted, resting her hand on her classroom door.  “Come inside, gentlemen, please.”  She held out her left hand to her empty classroom.

 _Omniscient Ms. Applebee,_ Tommy thought, briefly startled.  Retrieving his wits immediately, he smiled at her benevolence, noting her quiet but striking authority and grace.  “Hello, Miss Applebee.”  Strolling forward, he held out his hand for her.  She shook it, beaming a gracious smile.

“Your timing’s perfect actually.  I have planning right now.”

Tommy blinked, gawking at her.  “Miss Applebee, you never had a planning.”

She sighed.  “I do now.  It helps though as I’m sure you know now, Mr. Oliver.”

“I do.  And it’s Doctor actually,” he added.

“Of course.  Of course.  I apologize,” she replied, closing the door behind them.  Striding to just in front of the first row of seats, she surveyed them.  Taking in a deep breathe, she sighed.  “I simply had to wrap my mind around the fact that you are a grown, accomplished man.  And a doctor no less.”  The thought seemed to tickle her, for giggles bounced from behind her lips.

Tommy grinned sheepishly.  “It was a long, arduous journey.”  Miss Applebee nodded at this, her face more serious now.  “And just when I thought I could take a break, we had those crazy attacks in Reefside for most of last year.”

“It says a lot about the teacher you are that you are still in Reefside.”

“Despite a mental health day?”

“Oh, those are essential to any profession.”  She glanced and stared at Trent.  “My goodness.  Excuse me.  Your name, dear?” She extended a hand.

“Trent.”  Stepping to her, a hand in his jacket pocket, he shook the hand.  “Aw, yes.  I used to be a student of Tommy’s.”

“That’s right.”

“Trent was one of my brightest students,” Tommy said, clapping his hand on Trent’s shoulder.

Trent jerked his thumb at Tommy.  “Well he was a tough teacher.”

“Good teachers have to be tough.” Miss Applebee gave Tommy an appraising stare.

“You could be pushed,” Tommy responded, thinking of all of his students as he said that.  He looked at Miss Applebee.  “It’s not like I have a bunch of Bulk and Skulls to deal with,”

For the first time, Miss Applebee rolled her eyes, shaking her hands toward the roof.  “Oh my, when were they not in detention?”  She belted out a note of high laughter.  Oh, when they joined the Junior Police department, they were still goof-offs.”

Nodding, Tommy smiled.  “They got better as the years went along.  Bulkmeir’s is doing well.  A pool resort they own,” he explained to Trent.

Miss Applebee twitched her eyes, as if holding them back from rolling them in front of Trent and Tommy.  “Those two holding a business is more than I thought they could do in High School.”

“A lot can change in a decade,” Tommy remarked.

Miss Applebee nodded.  “Yes, it can.  I’ve visited Bulk and Skull’s establishment.  They took an idea or two from Ernie’s old space.  It’s nice.”  She eyed Tommy, thoughts clearly swarming behind her eyes.  “And clean.  You’ve changed also, Tommy, if I may say.  But I wonder if you are alright—if I may be a little bold.”

Her boldness plucked at Tommy’s composure.  Apprehension began coiling underneath his skin.  When he was his teacher, Miss Applebee had never been that forward with any of her students to Tommy’s knowledge.  But she kept her students on track—some though only as well as they would let her.  Miss Applebee’s silent accusation unnerved him.  In the years since they’d seen each other, Miss Applebee seemed to have grown in wisdom bordering on sagacity.  Anxiety dripped behind his brow.

Distantly, he wondered if sweat showed.  Silence soaked the air.

Tommy breathed.  “More than being a Ph.D. graduate and teacher has happened to me,” he relayed.

“I should hope so!” Miss Applebee exclaimed, returning to her usual demeanor.  Glad to see the change, Tommy still felt unnerved.  _How much of me does she/did she know?_   He glanced at Trent.  The teenager/young man wore no remarkable expression.

“And I think I should return to it.  Trent, you ready?”

Trent nodded.

“Thank you for seeing us, Miss Applebee.”

“Of course.  Trent, enjoy your visit here.”

“I am.”

Taking their leave, they waived to her.  She waived back beaming her smile once more.  Shutting the door behind them, Tommy peered into the wall, wondering where Miss Applebee’s naiveté had vacated to.

“Was that weird for you?” Trent whispered.

“Yeah, it was,” Tommy said.  Turning, he gazed back at the stairway.  His mind returned to the days he had been Rita’s enslaved Evil Green Ranger.

_“What you did you did under Rita’s influence.  Fight by our side and we can defeat Rita.”_

Spawned from Jason’s lips years before, the words resonated within Tommy.  Regardless, they did nothing to quell the remorse and ache in the bottom of his throat.

“Dr. O.?” Trent whispered from beside Tommy.  Feeling Trent’s eyes on him, Tommy hesitated in answering Trent’s unspoken question.

“The bell’s about to ring,” Trent reminded him.

Tommy nodded.  “Then we should go.”  Tommy turned, walking away from the staircase.

 

* * *

 

Thoughts buzzed in Tommy’s mind as he and Trent drove away.  Silence dominated the open Jeep save for the wind rushing by.  Knowing Trent wanted to discuss what had happened; Tommy avoided the other’s eye, focusing on the road instead.  Stubbornly he pushed away the thoughts building within him.  Nevertheless, Tommy could not wipe away the half smile that had had bloomed about his face.

 _What would Zordon say to me if I asked him about this?_ he pondered, wishing to fumble with his halved arrowhead.

Its story was centuries old; and its story with Tommy had lasted for most of his life.  First halved, whole, and then separated, its ancient powers diminished, Tommy cherished his part of his arrowhead.  The other half remained his brother, David, whom guarded it, fully recognizing the power it wielded when whole.

In thinking of this Tommy covered his left pocket, squishing the artifact.  Satisfaction tugged at a corner of his tongue.  Silently, he sighed.

Regardless of his retuning and fledgling calm—and because of it—Tommy wished he had the full arrowhead because it had guided him once when during his Zeo Ranger days when King Mondo had abducted David as ransom for the arrowhead.  Perhaps now it could guide him again.  Tommy shook his head at the thought.  David would not allow the arrowhead to be whole, especially now with Jason as organized as he was.  Nevertheless, perhaps his half of the arrowhead could guide him in this journey.  After all, it had guided him to meet David for the first time.

 _No_ , he corrected himself.  It had inspired the vision quest that had led to David and Tommy meeting each other.  The spirit of the falcon had guided Tommy to his brother.

 _The falcon,_ he wondered, recalling how his power coin had flashed yesterday.  Distantly, he wondered if there was a connection between the two.

“Dr. O., I’m sorry, but can we at least talk or put the radio on?” Trent interrupted. 

“The city sounds not enough amusement for you?” he half-joked.

“Not after what we just experienced.  I just can’t shake the feeling I had.”

Tommy inclined his head.  “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice barely rising above the wind.  “We’re almost to our next place.”

“Where is it?”

“My trip, my discretion.  Just wait a bit,” he amended.  Within moments they Tommy pulled into a different, nearly packed parking lot.  Spotting a vacant place, he pulled into it.  Shutting off his engine, he exited the Jeep.

“Is that Rocky and Adam’s Academy?” Trent asked, gesturing at Park and Desanto’s Academy next door.

“Yep,” Tommy replied, pocketing his keys.  Upon glancing at the academy, Tommy ignored the jolt squirming through him.  Jason had been there, revealed his new identity there, and controlled Tommy there.  Walking briskly, he pointed forward, moving only his wrist and index finger.  “But this is where we’re going.”

Trent read the sign plastered upon the straw-strewn wall adjacent to the tinted, double door entrance.  “The Surf Spot?”

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” Tommy asked, still walking.

“Yeah, but isn’t this…”

“A teen hang out spot?  Adults come in every now and then.  Shame Ernie left.  He made the best smoothies.”

“Haley might hit you if she heard that.”

Holding open one of the door, Tommy smiled.  “She already has.”

Trent stopped.  Pivoting around, he gawked at his former teacher.  “And you’re still alive?!”

Sighing out a chortle, Tommy playfully shoved Trent toward the double tinted glass doors.  Passing through a second entrance, they walked down a hallway.  Strolling by a row of lockers, they turned left into a large, wide, three tiered room.  Several tables populated the upper levels, especially around the bar and counters.  Two pool tables stood in the center of the lowest level, surrounded by at least six teens.  Five vintage arcade games lined the farthest wall.

“Cool place.”

“Yeah.  I wish you could’ve seen this place when I was a student.”

“Why?  Was it tacky?”

“No, just early 90s.  This was where we taught our classes, did drives for the city, environment, and basically hung out.”

“Dr. Tommy Oliver, as I live and breathe!” a plump, dark African America woman strode toward them carrying a tray of fries and milkshakes.  Setting her tray down on an empty table, she stretched out her hand.  Her entire body beamed with mirth.

“Adele,” Tommy said, shaking her hand.

“What brings you back to my abode?”

Tommy clapped a hand on Trent’s shoulder.  “Just showing a student some of my roots.”

Adele sized Trent up.  “Let’s see.  College level, right?”

Trent shrugged, nodding.  “Yep,” he said.

“You better listen to this man,” Adele continued, pointing to Dr. Oliver.  “He knows his stuff.”

“Trust me, I do.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Hey, Adele,” Tommy chimed in.  “Got any room for us?”

“Plenty.  Just sit yourselves wherever, and I’ll come find you.”  Picking up her tray she walked on.  “As if you had to ask,” she chuckled fixing him a look.

Grinning, Tommy shrugged.

“Quite a character,” Trent supplied.

“She is.”  Spotting a two person table, Tommy pointed to it.  “Come on.” 

“So how do you know Adele… or this place for that matter?”

“Ah, I tutored several kids here during my grad school days.”

Some of the teenagers waved at him.  Smiling, Tommy waved back.

“Seems as though you were liked.”

“Looks like it.  Nah, it’s a good feeling, teaching.”  Arriving at their table, they sat down.

“So what’s good here?”

Tommy lightly shrugged, casting his gaze about the multilevel room.  “Everything.”

Adele passed by.  “There you go, dears,” she said, placing two double sided one page menus on the table.

Tommy sighed and chuckled.  Adele's words rekindled his goodness, raising him from the darkness he had swum in in the drenching hours.

Turning his head, he stared at the lowest floor.  It stretched onward toward the far windowless wall.  Several surf boards hung from it.  However Tommy did not stare at the boards or walls, or at the tables curving around the three pool tables.

_Distant cheers echoed in his ears.  Gym mats populated the center area of the floor.  Rows of chairs lined the four walls, rooting a cheering crowd.   A hall-mounted scoreboard counted down.  0.57… 0.56._

_Tommy’s opponent back flipped away—a taller man than he; the same man Tommy would later kidnap.  Landing he ducked underneath Tommy’s three powerful, jump spinning heel kicks.  Springing upward, the opponent in a red muscle shirt jabbed Tommy’s gut with a snapping side kick, low impact.  Tommy rolled backward, rising to his feet and ready to attack again._

_“Break!  Break!  Break!” called out the referee.  “Back to center.” He added ushering them back.  “Judges call:  one point!” he stated, gesturing to Jason._

_Tommy glanced at the score.  Two to one.  He was losing._

_“Fighting stance,” the referee commanded._

_Tommy sank into a back stance, primal energy racing up the sides of his body and also within.  His fingers curved into claws as he ki-yahed, no longer a teenager but a tiger fighting for his quarry.  Through his intensity, Tommy saw his opponent._

_The poised man sank into an easier back stance, ready to adjust, defend, and attack._

_“Hajami!” the referee commanded._

_The contest resumed.  Tornado kicks fired from each of them, a flurry of punches pushed Tommy out of bounds.  Both opponents landed on the mat, ending the match in a draw._

_Sweat damping their shirts they clasped hands congratulating each other._

Tommy smiled at the memory.

“Dr. O?” Trent asked.

Tommy turned, glancing at the old teenager.

“You’re food’s here.”

“Oh, good.”  Tommy dug into his veggie wrap, cramming three bites into his mouth.

“Hungry?” Trent joked.

Chewing Tommy held up a finger.  Trent grinned sipping his drink.

Tommy swallowed.  “Soul searching takes a lot of you,” he replied.

“Or a tenga fight.”

They snickered.

Tommy gazed at the ceiling.  “No, this… this is where it all began for me.  I trained most of my life to be the best martial artist, focused and strong.  And those years landed me here, back when this was the Juice Bar—at a Martial Arts Expo, facing a local champion.”  He sighed, replaying the match in his mind once more.  Despite their differences, they had achieved the same result.  “Jason and I competed, and we tied.”

Trent’s eyebrows bounced up.  “That must have been impressive.”

“It was.  Even then, Jason was far more poised than me, watchful for an opening.  And he struck well when he saw one.”  He breathed in, his breath hissing.  “Jason was always like that; always knew when to strike.”

“Like nowadays?”

Tommy bowed his head twice.  Bowing a third, he turned, gazing at Trent.  “Exactly, Trent.”  _So could I be like that?_ he silently wondered.

“Dr. O.,” Trent whispered, nudging him.  Tommy turned, looking at the young man.  “There’s nothing here but memories… mostly of a place this no longer is.”

The words sank through Tommy’s skin and skull, dripping into his brain.  Drifting his gaze from Trent, he pondered the young man’s wisdom.  It was wisdom for this place was no longer the Juice Bar.  “I know that, Trent,” he said.  “It’s just nostalgic.  That’s all.  Anywhere we go today is going to remind me of memories. 

“Yeah, but those are in you, not the place.”

“Only to an extent, Trent.”  For the first time, Trent looked puzzled.  “Everyone leaves impressions wherever they go both in memory and in the place they’ve been.  I can’t navigate all of these avenues, but if I stop now, I might as well give up.  Lay semiconscious in my bed and forget living.  There, my thoughts are unorganized, chaotic.  But here… when I go to a place I’ve been… that helps me.”

“This sounds like a vision quest.”

“Yeah, it is.  But not just for me.”

“I’m sorry.  I’ve never been on a vision quest.”

“But you’ve journeyed to find yourself.  And that’s probably why Sean wanted you with me today.”

Glancing at the table, Trent quickly nodded.  “Yeah, he was pretty adamant about that,” he said, returning his gaze to Tommy.  “It almost creepy meeting him.”

“I know the feeling.  And he’s definitely not someone you want to tick off.”

“How good is he?” Trent asked, crossing his arms on the table.

Tommy lifted his drink.  “Better than me.”  He took a sip.

“Really?”

“Judging from your face I guess you’re surprised.”

“Yeah.  I believe you, it’s just—wow!  I mean you’re a power ranger legend.”

“Sean probably has tales worse than mine.”

Trent raised his eyelids.  Lowering them, he shrugged.  “I can’t comment on that.”

Tommy glanced down.  “Right now I’m not concerned with him,” he added, gazing into the air.

“You said you were searching for Jason.  I still don’t understand why.”

“Because I know him the best from our first team.  Even though I didn’t join until after the first team was made, he and I…”  Once more, Jason’s sparring and demonstrations flashed and slurred in Tommy’s mind.  Tommy rubbed his forehead, pressing and sliding his palm against the side of his face.

“Dr. O.?”

The voice barely carried over the surrounding white noise of conversations but Tommy heard it.  Slowly, his head glided around, looking at Trent.  “Yes, Trent,” he said.  “You wanted something?”

Trent shrugged, pursing his lips slightly.  “I was wondering if you wanted to visit the Park and Desantos’ Academy.”

Dread held Tommy back from accepting.  “No, Trent.”  He breathed in.  “Any other time I would.  But the way I am now…”  Lowering his eyes he shook his head.  He munched on a fry.  “Maybe I shouldn’t be here,” he muttered.

“I’m guessing something happened there also.  Something relevant?”

Tommy swung his head up and down.  “Yeah,” he said twiddling another fry.  “That was where Jason debuted.”  Tommy looked up, expressing there was more he wanted to say.  The rangers did not need any more publicity than they had received, and teenagers had an instinct for gossip.  It only took one eavesdropper to shatter their cover.

Trent glanced around.  “Is there a place nearby we can talk?”

Tommy straightened.  “Actually, there is.  You finished?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright then.” Grabbing his wallet, Tommy flung down some cash onto the table.  “Let’s move.”

 

* * *

 

Strolling along the smooth, cut, meadow grass, Tommy and Trent surveyed the multiple hillsides of Angel Grove Park.  Sparse oak trees of different varieties sprouted from the ground, shading the grass beneath their massive bunch of branches.

“It’s beautiful here,” Trent said.

“It is,” Tommy agreed. 

Trent chuckled.  Tommy looked at him.  “Something funny?”

The young man dipped his head to the side.  “A bit.  It just seems I’m always asking you “what happened here?’”  Chuckling, he smiled.  “It’d be nice if I didn’t have to ask.”

“You’re right.”  Tommy blew out some air.  “To be honest, I’m not sure why I’m so secretive.”  Looking around, he fastened his gaze on Trent.  “You earned my trust and everyone else’s.  I shouldn’t be doing this to you.”

“I appreciate that, Dr. O.”  Trent patted Tommy’s shoulder.  Tommy started, quivering.  Peering, Trent released his hand hovering it within reach of Tommy’s back.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean—”

Gazing at the ground again, Tommy shook his head.  “It’s not you, Trent.”  He looked up, still facing away.  “Or maybe partly… it’s just…”

Trent waited, staring at his mentor and friend.  After a moment, Tommy strolled onward.  Trent followed.

“My friends and I spent some terrific times here, relaxing or battling putties and monsters.”  He smirked as various memories sailed through his mind.  “Between those, we did homework or taught karate.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Nah, we got through it.  Did I mention I played football in High School.” 

Grinning broadly, Trent stared at Tommy.  “How in the world did you have time for football with everything else you were doing?”

Tommy shrugged. “Eh, we weren’t always attacked, Trent.  Look at Connor.”

“Point made.”

Tommy drew in some breath, and paused.  Trent waited.  An older feeling wafted through Tommy, gentler than the tug of heartbreak.  “Some of my happiest moments happened here.”  _Kimberly.  Katherine._   Their hands pressed against his heart, caressing it or interlaced their fingers with Tommy’s.  “I never married, Trent,” he said.  It was true though never spoken.  “I could list a whole list of excuses and reasons… and even that sounds cliché.”

“That isn’t what stopped you in the hallway was it?”

Trent gazed at Trent, his eyes sagging.  Slowly, he slid his head left to right atop his neck, an intangible burden stiffening the muscles around his vertebrae.  “No,” he answered, placing his hands on his hips.  “I sent Jason to Rita’s prison when we were alone.  There, he was forced to fight for his life.  First by Goldar and then me.”

“A monster?” Trent inquired.

“No, you saw him on the news earlier.”

Trent raised his eyebrows.  “Oh, that guy.  Nasty.”  Turning away he dipped his head in thought.  “Do you think that affected Jason somehow—adding to him turning evil?”

“I don’t know.”  Atop a hillside, they surveyed the park.  “Lord Zedd strove to destroy my powers or turn me against my friends.  Battle after battle, he wouldn’t stop until my powers were gone.”  Once more, he felt Kimberly’s touch.  That touch had carried him through many dark periods of his Green and White Ranger days even after she had left for the Pan Global Games, for it had lightened his stress and cushioned his spirit.  And when he had learned to open himself to love again, Katherine had helped supply that helpful touch.

No, he was wrong.  All of his friends’ support, compassion, and kindness had seen him through most of those.  Kimberly and Katherine’s love had brightened Tommy’s days but Tommy had never been engaged to them.  Time passed with them along with ease, and love.  Tommy had thought about it.  However when he had gone off to college outside of Angel Grove, he and Katherine parted with wet tears, a void crushing their skin and hearts.  Several moments they stood in the vast hallway, clutching each other’s torso in refusal of the inevitability.  The choice to stay dangled above them, easily within reach.  However, Tommy had wanted to study out of State and Katherine’s place was in California.  Their futures called them apart.  So with happiness and in wanting the other to be happy, they left each other.  Weeks afterward, and even months, the emptiness plagued Tommy’s heartstrings and skin.  Kimberly had been his first girlfriend.  Katherine was his second.  Afterwards, Tommy had dated but the dates had dwindled into nothingness.

“I just wanted a quiet life Trent… a life… time to actually…”  His mouth remained opened, verbally dry.  He breathed in, his abdominals shuddering.  Feeble air tumbled into his lunges.  He continued drawing in breath, eager to breathe.  He continued.  “It weighted a lot on Jason after Zedd succeeded in destroying my powers; but I told Jason I never blamed him.  I meant that.  I just…”  Silence possessed is tongue.  He bit his lip.  “You probably aren’t used to teachers being speechless, are you?”

Trent shrugged.  “I’m just here to listen and help if I can.”

“You have, Trent.  Honestly, I can’t think of anyone else better to be with.”  He turned back to the sky.  “Jason was right.  What I did, Rita forced me to do and I’ve owned the Power ever since I’ve had it.  But others have controlled me.  You and I know what that’s like.  You were controlled by a gem while I was controlled by aliens—and then a friend.”

“That’s what bothers you, isn’t it?”

“That Jason was my friend?”  Tommy recalled the picnic he, Zack, Kimberly, Billy, Trini, and Jason had had the afternoon Lord Zedd had sent the Guitardo monster to enslave all of them.  Trying their best, Billy, Zack, Trini, and even Jason had fallen to its hypnotic musical spell, leaving Kimberly alone to fight off the monster until Tommy intervened.  Months before that, Rita’s Dramole monster had hypnotized Zack, Billy, Trini, and Jason.  Both times, Tommy had had to join the battle as the green ranger, coming to Kimberly’s aid.  The first time, Tommy’s powers had been completely reenergized.  And in the second battle, Tommy had rescued his friends with nearly decimated powers.  Even after his powers had been taken by Zedd, he had regained their energies for one last morph and battle, showing evil once more that he would not quit defending Good either powerful or powerless.  Pride and strength shielded his determination to fight for Good.

Nevertheless, his spirit had failed last Thursday.  That day just like all the other times he had been controlled by others (Rita, Zedd, and Gasket), he had been helpless.  Even though Tommy had been able to fight off Gasket’s brainwashing, Tommy had not been prepared to fight off Jason’s or Rita and Zedd’s control.  It did not matter how it had been achieved.  Tommy, fighter for good and five time power ranger, had once again been swayed under evil.  His spirit, just like today, had failed.

 _Why can’t they leave me alone?_ he wondered.  His legs swayed.  Staggering he regained his balance.  Still, his body begged for him to sit.  Trent and he had walked here from their Youth Center which had only been less than two miles away.  Tommy was not tired and yet something shook his stability.  Something from within.  Seeing an oak tree, Tommy headed for it.  Crouching below its branches, Tommy sat down, slapping back against its trunk.

“Need a breather?”

Tommy glanced around.  Grasping a branch several inches above his head, Trent leaned in toward Tommy, dragging the toe of his shoe in the rivers of sand colored dirt.

Resting his right arm over his knee, Tommy sighed, cracking a brief grin.  Minute, weak chuckling exited from his belly.  Abating, he slouched against the trunk.  Words remained dry in his mouth yet buzzed in his mind.

“Not a bad place, here.  Plenty of shade.  I should have brought my sketch pad.”   Crossing in front of Tommy, Trent sat beside him.

“Trent,” Tommy smiled.  “Do you really know why I told your dad I wanted a quiet life at prom?”  Instead answering, Trent looked at Tommy, his soft eyes widened with apparent interested.  Tommy breathed in, glancing at the sparse grass on the ground between his feet.  “I want love again.” He paused, hesitating.  “As a power ranger I can’t enjoy being in love with a civilian.  Or even military.  As long as I’m a power ranger, Evil will always dictate my actions, call me away… ”  His throat itched.  Tommy had experienced this shortly after Kimberly had broken up with him.  “I can’t be honest with anyone I date, not really.  Something more important will always come between us.  The research, the studying ate up my time and then Mesogog ate up another year.  Now Jason is eating my time.”

“And the summer was short lived.”

“Like a holiday.  Or a stay-cation.”  A laugh hissed from his lips.  “Those dominated my life for too long.”  Closing his eyes Tommy leaned his head back upon the tree.  For a moment he remained, listening to the faint rustling of the leaves above him.  Inwardly, he refused to move, returning to the timid stillness he had felt that morning at the lake.  Onward he stayed, refusing to move.  His thoughts slowed.

Even during his busiest times, he had socialized, enjoying drinks with coworkers and guests but nothing more.  It hadn’t been anything more for years.

Eyes still closed, Tommy reached into his pocket and withdrew his arrowhead half.  Opening his eyes, Tommy stared at it, wishing that its mystical compass would project from its tip once more and point him toward the place he needed to go.  Instead it remained still and inactive.  Tommy only breathed.  Then he looked to his side.

Trent remained, sitting, leaning his elbows against his knees.

“Sorry,” Tommy said.

Propping his right fist on his right temple, Trent shook his head.  “I came to listen.  It’s your afternoon.”

“And also Jason’s.”

“Maybe.”  Trent straightened his back.  Leaning forward he interweaved his fingers.  “But so far as we know, Zedd’s the only one bothering you.”

“That’s true, we don’t know.  But Jason is the ringmaster regardless.”

Silence returned for a few seconds.

“Curious artifact.” Trent piped up, pointing at the arrowhead.

“More than curious believe me.”  _David_ , he thought.  _I wish you and Trueheart were here.  I could use it._   Bowing his head, Tommy closed his eyes, concentrating on his brother.  He stayed that way for several seconds, hoping to see either man in his mind or in a projection.  Nothing happened.  _Zordon,_ he tried.  _I know this arrowhead is a half, but I need your help._   Again, nothing occurred.  He waited, meditating his mind being open to those three spiritual people, foregoing any thought of Jason or his minions.  Nothing once more occurred.  He sighed deeply, dropping his shoulders.

Opening his eyes he looked at Trent.  The young man remained graceful in his patience.

“I applaud your patience, Trent.” Tommy said.

Trent inclined his head.  “Thank you.”

“You know, just now, you look older more experienced.  It’s admirable.”

Blushing Trent giggled.  “To be honest I don’t get to share this with many people.”

“I know the feeling, but you can always show who you are.  Just don’t always share that you were a power ranger.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good.”  Tommy paused once more, listening to the breeze.  “I’ll be honest, Trent… Sean said that Jason choose to be evil and that nearly cut us in half.  But then again… Sean also mentioned that Jason was destined to be evil.  Said he had more evil in him then was normal in a human.”

“Wow, that’s a new one.”  Trent scratched his head.  “I’m definitely not an expert in how much evil is in someone but I can see how that would be hard to swallow.”

Tommy chuckled.  “Yeah.”

Sunlight brightened around them, signaling the sun’s unveiling.

Trent scurried to his feet.  “Maybe she would rejoin the outdoors.  If Zedd sends tengas against us, we’ll be cornered under here.”

“Guess you’re right.”  Shuffling to his feet, Tommy stood.  Allies again the two of them walked on, returning to their path.

As they left the tree, a drop splashed upon the tip of Tommy’s cheek, trailing down it.  Blinking he kept walking, recognizing the liquid for what it was.


	13. Back to Action

Goldar sat upon the topmost step of the Chamber of Command, tracing the shape of his sword with his left index finger.  Eyes transfixed, he ran his finger along the oval-shape, encrusted, red jewel in the center of its hilt.  Scorpina had given that to him over ten thousand years ago.  He lifted his hackles.  Growling vibrated the back of his mouth and throat.

Orders, obedience, and loyalty forbade him from satiating the vengeance he craved.  Lord Zedd still refused to resurrect Scorpina.  And each day, Goldar’s cravings grew.  Withdrawing his hand, he squeezed his fingers into a fist.  Trembling descended from his hand.  Growling louder, he turned, sneering at aiming his sword at the earth.

“You seem antsy, Goldar,” Lord Zedd remarked.

Goldar turned toward the voice, shackling his rising fury. 

Entering from the main entrance, Lord Zedd ascended his dais, standing before his throne.  “Of course you should be mad at me.  But instead of wasting your anger on frivolous activity, why not take it out on the one you seek?”

Still glowering, Goldar gaped.  “I can?”

“I just told you to, didn’t I?  Oh, never mind.”  Swatting his hand dismissively at Goldar, Zedd fired his supervision over Goldar’s head at the earth, somewhere in California.  “Sean is at the ruins of the Power Chamber with Richie and Trini.  Go and enact your revenge.”

“Yes,” Goldar hissed.  “Thank you, sire.”  Sliding his left hand down the blade of his sword, he vanished as flames.

 

* * *

 

Sean stood straight backed atop a boulder just beyond the Power Chamber ruins observing Richie below him.  Breathing in Richie tightened his grip about his Power Daggers.

“Relax your hands a little,” Sean instructed in a voice barely louder than the breezes blowing around them.  “If you tense your hands too much, you restrict your writs’ agility.  Now, attempt once more.”

Richie straightened his backbone.  Reaching up, wiped the sweat from his eyes. 

“Hands down, please,” Sean instructed.

Sighing lightly, Richie obeyed.  _Focus only on the hands._

“Your daggers,” Sean continued, “As with any weapon should be a part of you.  Remember, and do.”

Breathing in once more and focusing on the air before him, Ritchie stabbed one of his daggers forward, every relevant muscle from his fingers down to the balls of his feet engaged.  Standing in a pointed lunge he stayed, experiencing the openness of his body in this form.  And then his thoughts returned, whispering instead of roaring.

“Excellent,” Sean said.  “You did well.  Now… for the other side.  Are you ready for that?”

Richie straightened up, placing his feet side by side.  “I can be.”

“Then be.  Proceed when ready.”

Just then Goldar appeared no more than thirty feet from Richie.  “Training’s over, gentlemen!” he announced.

Sean looked at him, narrowing his eyes.  He summoned his katana.  “Watch after Trini,” he commanded softly.

Nodding, Richie jogged off.

Sean hopped down from the boulder, resting his katana at his side.  He held the handle loosely; his fingers and palm ready to harness their strength.  No knots warped or impeded his muscles or frame.  Calm and focused, Sean stepped out from the ruins and boulders.

Goldar waited, clutching the handled of his sword.  He growled.  “I’m ready for you,” he said.

“Your sword will break if I strike it with mine,” Sean mentioned.

“How kind!”  Yelling, he lashed out, flinging white flames from his blade.  Sean’s energy shield projected from his chest, refracting them to the air and ground.  Sparks scraped the sand.  Neither opponent moved.  Sean remained unmorphed.

“Come Goldar,” Sean softly offered, walking slowly to his foe.

Goldar met him.  They crossed blades, mild in strength.  Progressing, they tested each other through parries, stabs, slashes, and reposts.  Sean fought doubled handed, maintaining his fortitude against Goldar’s aggressive, single handed, but varied, attacks.

They kept fencing.  Goldar pushed harder.  Still Sean refused to retreat or morph.  He knew Goldar would not target Trini or Richie, having read this in Goldar’s face and body, especially the warrior’s red eyes.  Therefore, Sean continued meeting Goldar’s attacks, parrying more than attacking.

“Can’t do more than parry?” Goldar mocked.

“You cannot seem to beat me even though I am unmorphed.”

Snarling, Goldar swung his sword with greater force.  Meeting each of Goldar’s blows, Sean neither morphed nor yielded any ground toward the ruins.  “You burned my arm,” he stated.  “That is the only victory you will gain over me.”

Parry, repost, cut, and slash; he pushed Goldar backward inch by inch.

“Quit toying with me!”  Goldar slammed his weight onto Sean’s sword.  Parrying it away with side of his blade, Sean stabbed forward, stopping between Goldar’s jaw and neck guard.  Goldar froze.

“You cannot defeat me now and here.  Not in the wake of Zordon’s home.”

“Zordon is dead!  I imploded your Command Center and Divatox blew up your Power Chamber.  The wreckage’s there behind you.”

“I applaud you,” Sean said.  Slowly he wafted his katana away from Goldar’s neck.  Growling, Goldar swirled his sword around, knocking its blade against Sean’s.  The two continued fencing.  “However, did you forget that the Turbo Rangers survived that explosion?”

“Silence!”  Goldar beat his wings at Sean.

The bluish energy cyclone slammed into Sean, hurling him backward several feet through the air.  Pops of sparks scraped his skin.  Landing in a squat, Sean gazed at Goldar, breathing deeper.  “You did well.”  Suspecting a trap, he morphed into the Green Ranger.  Breathing calmly, he stood.  “I wasn’t here to prevent those atrocities but heed this declaration.  I am Zordon’s heir and successor.  Evil will not desecrate this land again.”

Goldar tossed a shrug.  “Who cares?” Sneering and raising his hackles, he aimed the tip of his sword at Sean.  “I came for you!” he breathed.  “Don’t tell me The Great Sean, Legendary Warrior, has gone stupid.”

Sean did not change his composure, expression, or mentality.  No distractions lurked in his mind.  Instead he waited, suspending his alertness.

Despite his appetite for vengeance, Goldar did not move.

 

* * *

 

In the Ranger Lair, Richie and Trini hurried over to monitors.  Haley watched Goldar and Sean’s battle.  “Anything strange?” Richie asked.

“No,” Haley said, peering at the screen.  “Except it’s only Goldar.  No one else is with him.”  She raised her bunched lips.  “And the way he’s fighting.  It’s puzzling.”

“Sean can handle himself,” Richie said.

“But neither of them is going for the kill.  Sean I can understand a bit but Goldar isn’t even trying.”

Richie leaned in closer.  “He’s putting on a show.  Why?”

Haley shook her head, shrugging.  “A trap maybe?  Any ideas, Trini?”  She looked at the ex-ranger.

Trini stared at the screen.  Leaning both of her hands upon the desk she nodded, staring through her hair.  “Call the others,” she said.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, still in the cave, Rocky rested in active silence upon his back amidst the darkness.  His body, hammered and weary from fatigue, battle, and malnutrition, expanded and collapsed with his breath.  An acrid odor of vomit expelled during his last battle wafted amid the cave.  Rocky ignored it, his mind hovering near the threshold of first stage sleep.  However he would not despite the craving in his body and mind.  His spirit waivered, wearied with fatigue and excursion.  The increasing training battles (gauntlets of survival more accurately,) had tasked his body and mind.  However the food remaining his body helped steady his physiology.  Sleep was what he greatly needed but he did not know how much time he could devote to it.

Rationally, he knew that he would not be ambushed by Jason’s minions, for the torch would signal him to awake.  In addition, his anxious mind would waken as soon as it detected a disturbance or simply wanted to see if he was safe.  It had happened before.  Such an erratic sleep would not benefit him completely.

 _They will learn respect,_ he chanted once more, thinking of the tengas he had fought.  _All of Jason’s forces,_ he corrected.  Surfacing as a dolphin coasts through the water’s surface, air brushing across its dorsal fin and back, Rocky descended back into his meditative pseudo-sleep.

His limbs ached.  Rocky knew sleep would aid his healing.  _Full sleep,_ he had corrected himself a time ago.  _Anything shorter and I’ll wake up drowsy._   And so he rested in yogic sleep, with his body as aligned as it could be upon the uneven surface of the dais.  He no longer cared about the dirt staining his clothes and skin, or matting his hair.  It seemed appropriate now.  Rocky DeSantos, The Muddy Ex-Power Ranger.  He smiled at the thought.

 _Rise, Rocky,_ Jason whispered into Rocky’s mind.

Hearing the voice of his master, Rocky did not stir but his consciousness rose to alertness.

 _Teleport to me,_ Jason beckoned.

Fully awake and alert now, Rocky opened his eyes.  Breathing in deeply, he rose, exhaling through the complaints of his abdominals.  Breathing in again, he stood, thinking of Jason when he had revealed himself.  Focusing on that image, he exhaled and in doing so, released his body from its physical form, transforming into column of crackling bright red energy.  Reaching out to his master, Rocky traveled to Jason’s side.

He materialized within Jason’s chamber.

The Monarch of Evil stood tall a yard from Rocky, surveying Goldar and Sean’s duel.  “You have some more choices,” he mentioned.

Rocky approached.  “How so?” he asked.

Jason flicked his sight upon Rocky.  He curved his face slightly away from Rocky, studying the battle.  “Watch and decide.  Rita and Zedd have their own way to win this fight.  I… have my ways.”  He paused. “Which is yours?  Or are?”

 

* * *

 

Goldar advanced.  Sean swung his sword at Goldar’s left shoulder.  Goldar grabbed the blade, holding it firmly in place.  “So will you sacrifice your sword to protect this place you love?  Where is that incredible strength you once had?  Has it vanished from you like your ill-timed bravado?”

Sean did not move.  “Your taunts waste air, Goldar,” Sean finally said evenly.

Grinning, Goldar growled, inclining his head closer to Sean.  “So what am I playing at, great warrior?” he asked.

“Battle, me, Goldar,” Sean said.  “Or should I fetch some tea for us?”

Sneering, Goldar softened his jowls into a smirk, still baring his canines and fangs.  Springing his fingers from the Sword of the Phoenix, he stepped back.  Folding his wings into his back, he sank into a ready stance, raising his sword in a high guard.  “Come and get me,” he challenged.

Underneath his helmet, Sean maintained his focus on Goldar.  The future was indeterminable but he could stay in the present and govern himself.  Ease rested within him, soothing his muscles as adrenaline leaked through his bloodstream.

 

* * *

 

Rita looked up from her Repulsascope, smiling and giggling.  “Excellent!” she said.

“I don’t see the rest of those rangers nearby,” Lord Zedd commented.  “But that will change soon.  Is your spell ready by now!” he barked at her.

“Quivering with anticipation,” Rita answered.

“Excellent!”  Zedd raised his staff toward Earth, charging it with lightning and flames.  “Scorpina, wait no more.  Come forth from the grave and avenge!!!”  Roaring he cheered, flinging the head of his staff at the earth.  “Go and destroy!”  Lightning surged from its top, showering through the Californian sky.

 

* * *

 

Goldar and Sean exchanged blows and kicks, their strikes birthing sparks.

Just then lighting tore through the atmosphere, striking around them.  Halting, they separated, keeping two yards between them.  And then the lightning, dragging its strands together upon a nearby boulder, coalesced into Scorpina.  Faint discharges sparked and popped about her body, disintegrating into the air.  Clad in her armor and bearing her sword by her legs, she surveyed the scene, beautiful and dangerous in the afternoon sun and tossed sand.

“Scorpina,” Goldar said, beholding his wife.

“Goldar,” she said.  Her eyes flicked to Sean.  She scowled at him.  “I owe you payback, Sean.” She aimed her sword at him.

“I have been waiting for you,” replied Sean.  “Tell me, what else are Rita and Zedd doing?”

Scorpina smirked.  “Now that’s not wise, Sean.”  She sniffed.  Her hand flicked a millimeter.

Intercepting her, Sean met her blade with his.  Neither broke nor pulled away.  Instead Scorpina glared at Sean, fury crackling behind her smooth, pristine face.  Goldar leapt overhead slicing his sword through the air toward Sean’s left shoulder right underneath his shield.  The sword bounced off the air inches from Sean’s suit.  Spinning around with the momentum, Goldar swung at the back of Sean’s hip.  Anticipating the attack, Sean flipped through the air, breaking contact with Scorpina and batting her sword away.  Landing at least two yards from the duo, Sean stood in a kendo fighting stance.  Their bodies framed the edge of his katana.

 _Billy, I need your help,_ Sean beseeched.

 

* * *

 

In the Ranger Lair, Zack, Adam, Kimberly, Billy, Trini, and Richie stood and hunched around Haley, watching the battle.

“We gotta do something,” Richie muttered.  All agreed.

“Any reason why we’re waiting?” Zack whispered.

“Guys, Sean’s calling me,” Billy announced.

Faces turned, gazing at him.  “What’s he saying,” Zack asked.

Billy shushed them.

 _Is everyone with you?_ Sean asked.

 _All except Tommy,_ Billy answered, ignoring his friends’ faces.  _We haven’t called him yet._

 _I see.  This battle is meant for all of us.  Call him when necessary.  Everyone,_ he added, speaking to all in attendance.  _I sense a new threat from beyond the horizon.  Be on your guard._

“Okay, that was new,” Haley said, turning her gaze back to the fight.  As she watched however, she keyed in an adjustment to the communicators.

Zack blew out some air.  “You’re telling me.  I’m still not used to it, and I shared his mind for a while.”

“What else did he say, Billy?” Kimberly asked.

Billy was staring at the monitor.  “He said he needed help.”

She eyed him more.  “What’s bothering you?” she asked.

A few seconds passed.  “He’s scared.  I’m not an empath but—”

“I heard it too,” Trini said.  She and Billy locked eyes together.

“Zordon once said that Sean is the best fighter he’d ever known,” Billy relayed.

“So for him to be scared,” Zack chimed in.  Concern congealed the surrounding air.

“So should we join him or call Tommy?” Kimberly asked.

Billy thought for a quick moment.  “Haley, can you find Tommy and bring him up?”

“If he’s in the state I should be able to,” she said, typing in a command.  “Got him.”  She pulled up a visual on the second monitor.  Tommy was driving up a country road with Trent riding along.

Everyone breathed better but the air remained dense.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Sean fired dual blast from his crossed dagger and katana, blasting Goldar and Scorpina backward.

They stood amidst the sparse flames and streams of smoke, their eyes pinned on Sean.  They ignored the smoke wafting from their armor.  Goldar sneered.  “You won’t destroy us, will you, Sean?” he asked.

“You already killed me,” Scorpina teased, striding toward the Green Ranger.  “What’s stopping you now?”

They leapt at him.  Shifting his weight, Sean parried Scorpina and Goldar’s attacks.  Harsher and closer, they attacked with more vigor, closing in the gaps for mistakes.  Sean marveled at them, surprised that they had not displayed this talent before.  _They could win,_ he surmised.

 

* * *

 

Lord Zedd stood atop his dais gazing at the cosmos through his window and balcony.  Swelling with power, he stretched out his psychic and magical reach to several stars within sight from Earth and the Moon.

 

“Warriors from ages long ago,

With likeness in the stars,

Return to Earth.

Breathe once more.

Let Evil shape your form!”

 

Crescendoing into a yell, he hurled white lightning into the heavens.  Walls of blue lightning danced, flickered, and popped about the palace.  Thousands of miles afar but hovering within sight of Earth, two constellations shined with red fire (one in the northwestern hemisphere and the other below in the southeastern), their stars rippling.  Climaxing in brilliance, their light dwindled, shifting back to normal.

“Now, Sean,” Lord Zedd intoned withdrawing a hand from his staff and coiling it into a fist, flexing each muscle, “Let’s see how you like _my_ version of vengeance.”

Blue lightning struck Lord Zedd’s staff, the bolts coiling and twisting around each other.  Streams of flame exhaled horizontally from its top, amassing into two human sized figures, one human and the other six-legged.

 

* * *

 

Down on Earth, Sean parried Goldar and Scorpina’s sword swings.  Halting their advances he pushed them further down the arid, smooth, and boulder-ridden slopes.  Recovering, they attacked on his sides, switching positions quickly; even taking to the air in increments.  Switching to a higher guard, Sean danced among them, catching their lures and faints amongst their pure attacks.  Blue, orange, yellow, and red fire seared the air, hitting Sean’s suit and refracting off his shield.  Dust and sand sprayed into the wind of their play.

Five yards from the mountain’s base, and now side by side, Goldar and Scorpina slammed their swords overhead.  Sean caught their blades his.

“Enough!” he said.  Surging his katana with green energy, he bunted Goldar and Scorpina’s weapons backward.  Whipping the Sword of the Phoenix around, several energy prongs licked with flame lashed and raked the duo’s left sides and chests.  Showers of sparks accompanied their screams as they fell, tumbling to the base.  “You dishonor yourselves with your attempt,” he called out to them.

Smacking the ground, Scorpina stood, leering at Sean.  “Then it’s time we brought out our surprise.”

“I await it.”

She pointed to behind Sean with her sword, its curve eclipsing some of her chest.  She smirked.  “Them,” she said.

Sean gazed over his shoulder.

A man, tall and muscular in his build, stood in a tunic, pants, a short sword and a circular shield.  His shoulder length, brown hair flecked in the wind.  Sean darted his eyes to the behemoth beside him.  A scorpion three times the side of a human stood beside, the sunlight glaring through its translucent exoskeleton.  Seemingly leering at Sean, the Scorpion arched its tail, aiming its tip at Sean.

Sean recognized them immediately.  Distracted with surprise, he twitched his head, staring at the newcomers.  “Scorpio,” he said to the Scorpion, understanding now why Scorpina had not been resurrected sooner.  He turned his eyes away from Scorpio, laying his gaze upon the human.  “Orion,” Sean greeted, letting the wind carry his message to the other.

“Sean,” Orion intoned, nodding in reply.

Sean had no need to ask questions at the peculiar sight.  Predator and prey stood before him as allies.  _Unnatural,_ he critiqued.  Keeping his face tranquil, Sean swallowed.  _This I truly did not expect,_ he confessed.  _It wounds me to see you as this, Orion._   As he thought this, he drew in breath.

“So do you still need to protect your friends or yourself?” Scorpina asked.

“Neither,” Sean replied.  Swinging his wrist to in front of his mouth, he tapped his communicator.  “Rangers, now!”

 

* * *

 

“That’s our cue,” Billy said.

“It’s Morphin’ Time!”  Zack said, reaching behind his belt for his morpher.  His teammates reached likewise.  _Just like the old days,_ he briefly thought.  “Lion Ninjetti Power!”

“Crane Ninjetti Power!”

“Wolf Ninjetti Power!”

“Bear Ninjetti Power!”

Without or with a Red Ranger, they would still rise to defend their friends and this world.  Tommy only needed to be contacted and he would join them.  Hopefully, the rangers hoped events did not require that.

 

* * *

 

Materializing around Sean, the aiding rangers formed a ring with him, poised for battle.

“Well done and welcome,” Sean greeted.

“Glad to be here,” Zack said.

“Did you catch their names?” Sean asked, nodding at the newcomers.

“Clearly,” Richie answered.

“Straight from mythology and reality,” Sean informed them.  “They’re just as enslaved as Tommy was when he debuted.”

“Gotcha,” Zack said, hardening his gaze.  “Full story later, I hope?”

“Priorities, Zack.”

“Speaking of which,” Scorpina cut in.  Bringing her left hand to her face, blue flames danced on her palm.  Sneering at the rangers, Goldar saluted with his sword, white and red flames wreathing its blade.  In unison, they swung their arm and sword, hurling at least six fire blasts at them.

Pressing her arms forward, Kimberly yelled out.  Four of the blasts grazed her shield, but it did not shatter.  The other blasts hit surrounding boulders.

Scorpina fumed, glaring at Kimberly.

Staring in like, Kimberly drew back an arrow with her Bow, aiming directly at Scorpina.  Kimberly fired.  Slapping the arrow aside, she leapt forward—Goldar joined her, firing from above.   Flame strikes grazed their and hit their shoulders and chests—even Sean’s.  Scorpina and Goldar landed inches outside of the ring.  Foregoing conversation, Kimberly, Richie, and Billy shoved Goldar and Scorpina backward.

“Help them, Zack,” Sean commanded.  “I’ll handle those,” he added, gesturing at Orion and Scorpio.

“Alright.  Don’t be macho about it.”

Sean faced the enslaved foes.  “I am not,” he said. 

Bending fleetingly at his knees, Sean kicked off, somersaulting maddeningly through the air at Orion, intent on slamming the soles of his feet into Orion’s breastplate.  The reborn Greek stood his place.  Sean kicked his feet out.  Orion pivoted, stabbing one handed at Sean’s left hip.  Sean countered vertically with his.  Orion retracted, spinning fully out of the way.  Rolling 45 degrees, Sean dug his feet into the ground, sliding to a stop.  Immediately he stood his body tall and erect.  The Sword of the Phoenix rested at his hip in his left hand.

 

* * *

 

Ascending his balcony’s steps, his free hand stretched out to the earth, Lord Zedd watched the double pronged battle.  “Yes, my new warriors,” he hissed deep-throatily.  “Exact my vengeance and of every other evil entity Sean has wronged.  Crush his body and impale him!  I don’t care!  But _shatter_ and _terminate_ his _life_!” he finished, shaking a fist at the earth.

 

* * *

 

The two humans continued staring into the other.  Scorpio rested yards nearby, waiting in predatory patience.

“Most human have perished when I use that move,” Orion stated.

“It was well executed,” Sean said.  _I know what you want me to reveal, Zedd,_ he privately thought, _but I will not divulge it._

Pouncing forward, Scorpio pierced the eternity, his pincers ready to squeeze or crush.  Sean parried the blows, his katana only sliding across The Scorpion’s exoskeleton.  Scorpio arched his tail, towering it over Sean.  Thrice he struck.  Sean dodged the blows, countering and parrying against the pincers too.  Orion leapt into the fight, his short sword another obstacle.

Scorpio continued striking.

All the while, Sean danced around their blows, drawing in quicker and deeper breaths now.  Still he remained light on his feet.  Leaping yards above the reach of Scorpio’s tail, he cupped his hands as if holding a professional sized soccer ball, cocking his hands inches beside his neck.  Several blindingly incandescent energy shards of emerald, teal, turquoise, and yellow shot into the center between his hands, coalescing into a translucent, dark emerald colored energy orb.  Taking aim, he launched it at Scorpio.  Hitting the base of Scorpio’s tail, the Dragon Buster exploded with cloud of emerald turquoise discharges.  Scorpion staggered with pain, its legs quivering.  No sound uttered from it.

Sean landed.  Orion stabbed viciously at Sean’s side.  Dodging the attack, Sean locked blades with Orion, all the while sensing Scorpio was still alive.


	14. The Rope's Length

Miles from the battle, loose, ashen quarry rock and sandy dirt crutched and slide underneath the Jeep’s wheels, muffled only by the air whipping Tommy and Trent in a trailing cocoon.  Minutes upon minutes, Tommy drove ever further uphill and off road.    Off in the west, the sun inched closer to the horizon from its high pinnacle, teasing the faint clouds with rims of light but forestalling magic hour.

Sitting silently in the passenger seat, Trent took in the scenery.

Tommy glanced at him.  The young man amazed him—this day amazed him.  Turning at a bend, Tommy mentally slapped himself.  If he had not been so stubborn Connor would be sitting there instead of Trent.  Nevertheless, was it really stubbornness that had sealed him from reaching out, forcing his teammates to reach out to him and forcing help upon him despite his position?  _I never open enough,_ he mused, shocked mildly at this truth.  Yes, he had opened himself more last year to his ranger teammates, but he had been their teacher and could not cross a line of professionalism and conduct.  Regardless, little by little he had opened up to them, sharing parts of himself while keeping a line of discretion.  He glanced once more at Trent.  Returning his eyes to the terrain before them, Tommy imagined Connor and Trent ridding with him, offering their compassion and support.  His face loosened at the thought.  Neither of them was young anymore.  More so, they were no longer naïve.

“Didn’t we fight some of Mesogog’s goons around here?” Trent asked.

Tommy stirred, blinking rapidly.  “I think so,” he said reviewing the terrain.  “Maybe a Terrosaurus.”  He kept driving.

“You’re not lost, are you?” Trent asked.

Tommy smiled.  Slipping his left hand in his pocket, Tommy wrapped his fingers around his arrowhead half.  _Please guide to my destination,_ he prayed.  _Guide me to where I can seek answers._   As he prayed, a feeling of calm clarity brewed within him, loosening his coiled pectorals.  He listened from within, recalling many mediations David had lead him through.  ‘Hearing’ an answer, Tommy turned the jeep, curving it leftward and uphill.  “No,” he said to Trent.  “I just haven’t been to this place since it happened and… to be honest I’ve never traveled there on foot.”

“What did you do?  Teleport there?”

Tommy shook his head.  “No, I rode on my zord. 

“Dragonzord, right?”

“Yes.  The terrain looks a little different from the ground.”

Trent nodded.  “So do you know where this place is?”

Hearing Trent’s words, Tommy remembered that he had fought several of Rita’s monsters there or near to it, but he had never returned to the exact spot either by accident or by choice; not even to commemorate.  While as a teenager he had understood abstract concepts of duty and honor, perhaps he had been too young to understand and appreciate the significance of the place.  Today that changed.  He had avoided the place for long enough.

“What exactly happened at this unknown place?”

“It’s better if I wait until we get there to tell you.”

With his elbow propped on the door, Trent regarded him, raising his eyebrows and rubbing his chin with his index finger nail.  A handful of seconds passed.  “Okay,” he said.  Shrugging he gazed again at the landscape.

The wind whistled and flapped about them as Tommy drove upward.  The ground leveling around, Tommy slowed to a stop.  “We’re here,” Tommy said. 

Squinting, Trent gazed around.  “Really?”

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Tommy exited.  “Yeah.  Come on.  Hop on out.”

Trent did so, jogging after Tommy.  The older man briskly walked to the summit’s edge.  Hands in his jacket pockets, he halted less than a yard from the edge, surveying the scene.  The Tyrannosaurs and Dragonzord roars echoed in his mind.  Trent joined his side.  “Quite a valley,” Tommy said.

“Yeah,” said the other.

“Take a look opposite of us.”  A mountain with a bowl-shaped hole loomed in the distance.  Even peripherally, Tommy saw Trent gape at it.

“The Megazord hurled my Dragonzord through that mountain.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Nope.”

“But that has to be ten years old!” Trent sputtered.

“Kinda hard to rebuild a mountain.  Local authorities treated it as a natural disaster.”

“I guess they would.  I’m surprised it wasn’t turned into a landmark.”

Tommy grinned.  “That’s what Connor would say.  I’m surprised to hear you say that.”

Trent gazed at Tommy, his eyebrows raised.

“Humility is a Ranger’s tool and cloak.  It helps hide our identities, Trent.”

“I know.  I mean not for the public just… you know.  For us.  Other rangers.”

“We don’t really have memorial sites.”  Tommy breathed in, expelling a lot of air.  “Except for Zordon’s memorial but since a lot of teams can’t teleport nowadays it isn’t visited a lot.”  He chuckled and sighed.  “We could teleport to other galaxies in those days, and now… most of us our reduced to airfare.”

Trent surveyed the valley.  Noticing something, he pointed across the valley at a gap between two mountains.  “That must be how you entered.”

Tommy nodded at it.  “Take a look below.”  Stones of faded obsidian lined the valley near vertical walls and ledges.  Sparse and thin grasses grew along and below a few of the ledges.

“You wanna hike down there?” Trent asked, surveying the lining ledges.

Tommy patted Trent’s shoulder, resting his hand on it.  “Don’t need too.”  Tommy teleported them to the valley’s floor as white columns.

Trent wobbled for a second, touching his head.  “That’s different.”

“Not the same as Invisiportals, eh?  Take a breath.”  Trusting that Trent would be fine, Tommy sauntered forward to the cliff edge overlooking the triangular, arced edged lake.  Standing a yard from the cliff he took in the scene, allowing the flood of f images, thoughts, and emotions to surge through him.  He could not change any of those events, but those times had made him stronger as a ranger—and later on as a person.  “Thank you, Rita,” he whispered to the air.

“What’d you say?” Trent asked.

Tommy laughed a note or was it a gasp?  He stopped himself, absorbed by that instant, processing it.  “What I never thought of before,” he answered after a moment.  “If Rita hadn’t chosen me, I may not have been the Green Ranger and then…”  He glanced at Trent, coughing through a smirk.  “We wouldn’t be here nowadays even though we fight against it… you and I both owe our ranger careers to Evil.”

Furling and stretching his lips, Trent nodded.  “So do Connor, Kira, and Ethan,” he pointed out.

Tommy did a double take.  He then silently chuckled, his face breaking into a full smile.  “But each of them was doing something that was against School rules.”  He fixed Trent with a mock stare.  “Kinda like you only you weren’t breaking a rule.  You were just being curious and reckless.”

“And ignorant,” Trent supplied unapologetically.  “I’ve grown since then.”

Tommy dipped his head in a full bow, inclining his shoulders forward a bit.  “All of you have.  And you’re right.  I’ve thought about that day for a long time.  If Connor, Kira, and Ethan hadn’t landed in detention, which I was put in charge of last minute—” He shook his head at the memory.  “They may not have gotten their Dino Gems that day.”  Tommy stared at Trent, stretching forth a bridge of meaning and understanding.  “You and I were lead to the Power through Evil means, to destroy the rangers.  You and I were meant to be assassins when we were recruited.  The others were chosen as defenders.”

Seconds passed as Trent took this in, processing it.  Gazing away he nodded.  Tommy saw this.  Locking eyes again with Tommy, Trent asked.  “So where did it happen?”  He flicked his hand about the valley.

“It was a battle.  Dragonzord versus Megazord.”  Turning away from the cliff edge, Tommy pointed to a spot several yards away.  He swept his hand from there to a ridge a third of a way up the nearest mountain.  “Then me versus Jason over there.”

“Must have been something.”

Pivoting around, Tommy took in the valley.  “It’s funny,” he said, echoes of his and Jason’s battle resonated within him.  “I’m surprised how much I remember.”  Just then, he realized that he had forgotten the date that battle occurred—even which day.  Thursday?  Wednesday?  Friday?

 _Does it really matter?_ he wondered.

In some ways it did.  Jason had liberated Tommy that day at least twelve years away in the past (and seemingly near today), allowing Tommy to freely choose how to use The Power instead of Rita dictating his actions.

On the other hand, Tommy had dedicated his life before then to the benevolent, self-improving principals and philosophies of the martial arts.  Choosing to be a true power ranger and joining Jason, Trini, Billy, Kimberly, and Zack to defend Earth against Rita Repulsa had been a natural extension of those principals. 

Regardless of either of those, that choice so long ago—perhaps even when he had first spared against Jason—had bound his life and destiny to the Power.  His discovery of the Dino Gems had done proven that.  Despite his woes since then becoming the Green Ranger, he had come through as a better human being, full of confidence and self-assurance.  Acknowledging this once more, he reaffirmed that he did not regret those changes within him.

Studying more recent events, he only wondered how in control he was of his life.  His arrowhead half had guided him here once he had decided to visit this spot but what had persuaded it to?  Allowed or made it able to?  In the years since the arrowhead fragment had been given to Tommy, it had never demonstrated any powers except when it had reunified with David’s half.

 _What motivates it now?_ Tommy wondered, gazing at the mystical artifact in his palm.  _What motivates me?_   Turning his eyes, Tommy studied a patch of squat underbrush growing up the valley wall, his body perpendicular to the valley wall.  “My life changed here,” he said, “Rita only brought me here....”  He breathed in, filling his lungs with air; then blew it out.  “But _I_ changed here.”

Warmth wafted upon his right cheek, tickling his growing whiskers.  Tommy turned toward the ‘three sided’ lake.  “Trent,” he said, nodding and pointing with his eyes at their guest.

Jason Lee Scott stood between the pair and the lake, his hands resting in his pockets.  Standing in white tennis shoes, Jason sported a red, short-sleeved, collared t-shirt; a zipper hanging open over his upper chest.  Baggy red pants flapped in the breezes.  His bulkier frame filled in the eleven year old outfit more than it had when Jason had been a teenager.  “Nice day, right?” Jason called out.

“I thought you retired that look?” Tommy challenged.

Jason shrugged.  “I was feeling nostalgic.  I thought I still looked good in it.”

Tommy allowed the friendship to reignite.  “You do.  Not sure if others would agree.  Besides,” he hooked Jason’s interest with a pause, “isn’t it a little out of date?”

Jason smiled and shrugged.  “Then if you insist.  It felt good anyway.”  Hardening his face he waved his arms across his chest.  Now wreathed with flames, his garb shivered into his black robes.  A black cloak fastened at the base of his neck, draping down his shoulders.  His hood remained down.

“I take it this is Jason?” Trent asked.

Tommy glanced at Trent peripherally.  “Yes.”

Jason looked past Tommy.  “Good to see you, Trent.  You should consider it an honor to meet me.”

“I don’t.” Trent responded.  “There isn’t any honor in what you do.”

“You are wrong.”

“Leave my student alone, Jason,” Tommy threatened.  “All of them.”

“I have no interest in hurting any of your protégés.”

“Teammates,” Trent corrected.

Jason nodded at Trent.  “You aren’t a ranger anymore so don’t lie.  I was just being polite.”

“Evil is only polite when it wants to mock or condescend Good,” Tommy retorted.

Jason did not respond but stared at Tommy.  His expression blurred into many possible ones.

Noticing the interlude, Tommy pivoted his face a few degrees toward Trent.  “Climb up the hillside; get out of here,” he whispered.

“I can stay,” Trent said.

“No,” Tommy urged.  “You’re safe for now.  Use it and get out of here!”

“But…”

But Tommy was already staring back at Jason, consciously darkening his peripheral vision.

“I wanted to show you something,” Jason called out to Tommy.  “In memory of this place.”

“So you knew I’d show up here?” Tommy shot back, stalling for time.

Jason grinned, his eyes gleaming but hiding a truth.  “I thought you would but wasn’t sure.  Glad you did though.”  He spread out his arms, pushing his cloak from his body.  There, hilted to his left hip, was a sword handle, ashen and white, stabbing through the air in its jagged yet smooth asymmetrical shape; a red sash no longer than six inches, dangled from its end.

Tommy started.  “How do you have that sword?” he asked, his feet shifting underneath him.  Tommy grounded them once more, seeking the foundation of his stance.  _Hard with these rocks,_ he thought.

“Don’t you remember when Rita created her mutant rangers?” Jason asked.

Tommy did.  Late in coming to the battle, he had fought a green ranger mutant, its gloves as dark as a putty patroller’s.  That mutant had fought with the same sword Jason wore now, even though Jason had destroyed it years ago in this very place.  The answer was obvious.  Rita had fashioned one for her mutant green ranger.  Therefore, logically Jason had had another copy made, no doubt imbued with the same deadly and offensive powers.

Jason patted the hilt resting his forearms upon it.  “This sword isn’t a copy though,” he said.  “It’s meant for someone…”

“Save it!” Tommy commanded.  “I’m not interested.”

Jason bowed his head, sighing.  Looking up he squinted at Tommy through the clear air.  “I was interested in you but I guess I’ll be giving it to Rocky.”

“Then you don’t want an heir, you want a slave!” Tommy yelled.

Jason gazed into Tommy’s eyes.  Second after second, with gentle yet agonizing poise.  “This sword could have been more to you if you hadn’t been a slave.”

The sun glared its light upon them.  The rocks reflected its heat.

Tommy’s communicator signaled.  He twisted his wrist, keeping his hands to his sides.

“Shouldn’t you answer that?” Jason asked.

“No.  I trust my friends.”

“They might need you.”

“Since when are you concerned about me, Jase?  Long as you’re here, I’m not leaving.”

Jason smirked.  “Good ol’ Tom.”  He tilted his head, scrunching his face and eyes.  “Isn’t this the first time I called you that?”

Tommy rolled his eyes.  “My name isn’t why we’re here, Jason.”

“Exactly.”  Jason paused.  The word stewed in the air.

Understanding, Tommy waited, his body now poised.  Wind dipped into the valley, ruffling their clothes.  Tommy’s hair protested against the unexpected gusts.  Still, Tommy kept his gazed fixed on Jason.

Jason Lee Scott, beloved friend, expert martial artist, and traitor to humanity, The Power, and Zordon, stared back at Tommy.  And then, as if their minds were linked, they stepped toward each other.

Trent stayed back, curious to the see the end result.  The air shifted, blowing fiercer now about the three of them.  Bound and pulled to the other, neither Tommy nor Jason shifted their focus, stance, or stride.

They stopped.  Jason and Tommy stood off six feet from each other, poised in alert patience, silently challenging the other to attack.  The air changed about them, shaping to their growing focus.  Oddly though, anxiety did not harden or tense their bodies.  Instead, only their focus hardened.

Tommy and Jason.  Up till this hour, Tommy had never considered or connected their first meeting and ensuing friendship with fate.  So many events had occurred to align and overlap their lines to bring them to face each other in that match at the Martial Arts Expo those eleven and half years ago.  Their perseverant and disciplined studies of the martial arts, ambitious competiveness, and choices of their parents, had landed them there that.  On that Saturday, they had tied despite striving to win.  Now, however, a tie would be unacceptable for they were meeting each other anew today.  Telepath or not, both knew this by looking into each other’s eyes.

Yards away, Trent discerned only the surface of these revelations.  Moreover, his now clammy spine shivered at the quiet, still intensity between and around Tommy and Jason.  Rocks should have been rising about them.  Trent shifted his feet.  It was time to go.  Turning, but glancing back periodically, he approached the nearest ledge wall.  Finding a path, he climbed upward, still glancing at the pair now and then.

The two were breathing statues.

“Not gonna morph?” Jason asked.

“Got a feeling you’d wreck my morpher before I could use it,” Tommy replied.

“Smart.”

“So enough chit-chat?”

“We’ve said enough.”

“Glad we agree.”

In one move, Jason drew the Sword of Darkness, sliding its smooth but sharp true edge upward.  Noticing almost too late, Tommy spun out of the way.  Summoning Saba in mid-rotation, Tommy parried the evil blade away, using his foe’s inertia.  They broke away.  Swinging their arms around, they crossed blades overhead, Tommy holding Saba with its blade parallel to his forearm.

“So tell me, Tommy,” Jason said, slowly easing Saba toward the hairs of Tommy’s nose.  A corner of his mouth twitched upward into a half smile.  “How much do you remember from Muiranthius?”

Tommy glared back at Jason, recognizing Jason was not using all of his strength.  In answer, Tommy smirked.  Glaring now, Tommy broke away, morphing instantly into the White Ranger.  The two friends exchanged a couple of sword swings, neither breaking into the other’s defenses.  Though frustrating, this gratified Tommy.  They were still equals after all of these years.  However, Jason could have been herding Tommy into false security.  Parrying another blow, Tommy took aim and fired at the Sword of Darkness.  It dissolved instantly.

“No one needs that sword,” Tommy said.

Jason shook his head.  “That was only a copy.”

And Tommy understood.  “So Rocky has it now.”

“Yeah.  But you can still take it from him.”

“Only way that’s happening is if you control my mind.”  Still glaring at Jason, Tommy twitched his head back and forth.  “I’m not gonna allow that anymore.”

Jason drew his katana.  “Those are only words,” he said, pointing his tip and staring at Tommy’s heart.

Jason advanced.  Katana versus saber:  one desperately trying to cut the other in half.  But they failed so they continued.

Even from afar, Trent heard their swords clattering against each other, and faintly their ki-ahhs!  Earlier, Trent had wanted to see these two men spar like they had almost thirteen years ago.  Now however, he doubted anything they had done in the past could equal their prowess today:  flipping over each other, striking with four to six kick and strike combos, and clinging to their swords as they slammed them against each other.  Dr. O had never fought this well against Zeltrax or even Mesogog.  This was a higher level.

Still, Tommy and Jason were not equals.  Springing and flipping over Jason, Tommy whipped one of his heels around 180 degrees, aiming for Jason’s temple.  It was a new attack he had mustered—uncharacteristic and difficult for him to execute.  Jason ducked, leaving only for the heel to pass through.  Tommy landed, disgruntled to say the least.  “Shouldn’t have tried that now,” he said, ignoring his protesting obliques and abs.

Following the faint curve of his katana, he carved away, and up, Jason stabbed diagonally downward at Tommy’s face.  Tommy stumbled backward, evading it by inches.  Stepping through, Jason rested in a middle guard.  Tommy regained his footing.

“Cool move, then,” Jason said.  “I guess you’re out of practice,” he added, nodding at Saba.

“I manage.  Give me a break.”

“I gave you chances to practice.  A whole week.”  Raising his katana overhead, Jason cut at Tommy, herding Tommy away from the valley ledge.  Tommy parried the attack, unable to deter or evade Jason.  The monarch was too good.  _Who trained you,_ Tommy wondered, barely aware of the thoughts himself.

Their blades crossed, locking.  “You’ve had days.  I had years,” Jason continued.

“Shut up, Jase!”

Batting the katana away, Tommy sidestepped.  Jason copied, showing he was waiting to strike or defend.

His eyes pinned into Jason’s brown eyes, Tommy listened to the dull, faint breeze and the crunching of the rocks below them.  In the silence, Tommy remembered the countless hours he and Jason had spent in the Youth Center, sparring with each other after school and weekends both in hand-to-hand combat, pads, _shinais_ (bamboo practice swords used instead of katanas), _bo_ staffs, or simply practicing several katas.  Back then Tommy had been more skilled with the sword, even though his main weapon had been a dagger.  In those hours, Jason struggled through sweat and exhaustion, striving to be as good as Tommy, ignited within by friendly competition and teamwork.  Despite the differences in their styles, they were almost at the same skill level, and so, after struggling to cooperate with each other, they worked toward being in sync, sealing the gap spawned by their competiveness by enhancing each other’s strengths instead of defaulting to their habits and thus increasing their weaknesses.  Nevertheless throughout their training, they never sacrificed their individuality to their craft for that was part of what made them a terrific team—and also how they had read each other’s moves even in their first match.

Now, Tommy saw clearly how different Jason was.  Jason’s blade grazed across Tommy’s forearm gloves.  Tommy forced himself to relax the panic tensing his muscles as he pulled away.  He could not sacrifice any speed in this fight.  Jason was too skilled.  And he was better, displaying more skill than he had during that fight with Sean.  For the first time in their friendship, Tommy could not follow all of Jason’s moves.  Even though Tommy had trained himself to fight with all of his senses, in this battle, he truly felt blind—as if the man before him was only a facsimile of Jason wearing his face.  And yet Tommy had seen Jason train over the years, building his body toward its personal peak.  The fact that he still retained most if not all of his agility marveled several onlookers, including amateurs or novices to Martial Arts.

If Jason was still a human, his mass would have been a weakness.  Over time Jason would tire quicker than Tommy because of his greater mass.  It was a simple matter of physics.

However, Tommy could not wait that long.  Morphed, and empowered with both his Ranger and Ninjetti abilities, along with his knowledge groomed throughout years of experience though he was, he knew he could not win.

Spotting a brief opening, Tommy stabbed forward, tearing through the cloth and scrapping Jason’s shoulder, and shooting the area once.  Twisting from his torso, Jason slammed his opposite elbow into Tommy’s chest, hurling him backwards several feet.  Riding the hit, Tommy tucked and rolled in the air, landing on his feet.  Grasping his chest with a shaky hand, he spread out his legs, catching his breath.

Facing Tommy fully, Jason held out his assaulted arm and craned his neck, surveying the tear in his cloth.  Glad for the respite, Tommy sucked in deep, labored breaths, worried that his ribs were broken or at least cracked.

From the sidelines, Trent tightened his fists, hoping Dr. O was fine.

Jason lowered his arm, exposing skin underneath flushed from the double attack.  Despite the skin remained whole and intact.  Tommy mentally swore.  He was running out of options.  “I need the others,” he whispered.  Pulling himself to his full height, Tommy raised his communicator to his mouth, and activated it.  “Haley,” he said.  “I need help.”

 _“Tommy, thank God!”_ she exclaimed.  _“I’m sorry.  I can’t send anyone.”_

 _So they’re still busy,_ Tommy confirmed.  “Where are they?”

_“At the base of the mountain of Zordon’s Memorial, fighting Goldar, Scorpina, an ancient Spartan, and a bigger-than-human scorpion.”_

“You’re free to help them.” Jason interjected.  Tommy looked at Tommy, assessing the situation. 

 _“Tommy, you can’t beat Jason alone,”_ Haley said.  _“No town is in danger of Jason now.”_

“Everyone’s in danger of him now,” Tommy corrected her.  “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asked Jason.  “To dictate my moves.”

Jason only held Tommy’s gaze.

To answer Tommy’s question would diminish Jason’s power.  Tommy understood that, and he also understood that he was partially wrong.  “Watch over my friends,” Tommy said, shutting off his communicator.  He would stay, fighting against the curling hand that sought to possess him.  That hand now belonged to Jason and its master would not stop if Tommy left.

“You’re brave to remain,” Jason remarked.

Slowing his breathing now, Tommy sided stepped leftward, curving slightly; all the while he pointed Saba’s tip at Jason’s heart.  “Call off the attack,” Tommy said.

“No.”

Tommy hissed through a growl.  He stepped forward, drawing back Saba into a medium level guard.  Jason walked forward, holding his katana at his hip as if it was sheathed.  They met, visor staring into flesh.  Eternity swirled around them.  Nature’s sounds retreated from their ears.  The other filled their gaze.  Poised as statues, they waited, blanketed in patience.  Their messages blazed in their silence.

Tommy struck first.  Jason countered, bunting the attack.  Shunted backward, Tommy dodged diagonally, sidekicking Jason in the side.  Jason swiped it aside.  Riding the momentum, Tommy spun one footed, bunted Jason’s blade.  Flicking his sword to a different angle, he swung at the top of Jason’s neck.  Leaning backward at his hips, Jason parried the attack away.  Switching targets and angles again, Tommy swung at Tommy’s middle ribs.  Jason parried it with a dip of his blade, reposting at Tommy’s shoulder.  Tommy leapt once more to the side, nicking Jason’s left elbow. 

Jason glared after Tommy.  Immediately smoothing his features, Jason stabbed and swung at Tommy.

Saba blurred through the air, guided by Tommy’s hands.  Clangs echoed throughout the valley, resounding off the ledges.  Sparks danced on their crossed blades.  Quicker and faster they swung and stabbed.  Spinning to strike harder at Jason’s shoulder, Tommy jumped into a spinning heal kick at the same spot, following it with a snapping round kick.  But he only hit air.  Landing Tommy continued his attack, refusing to stop but breathing throughout his attacks, aligning them.

Jason back-stepped, parried, but never retreated.  Even when withdrawing he attacked. 

Seeing these, Tommy knew what to do.  Absorbing and challenging Jason’s blows, Tommy slowly fed more energy into Saba, careful not make it shine brilliantly.  He could not tip Jason off.  Sinking into his instinct, Tommy fainted, slashed, and stabbed clashing with Jason’s katana.  Squatting, he kicked out at Jason’s legs.  Jason leapt overhead, kicking Tommy to the ground.  Landing in a swirl, Jason swung his katana down with both hands.  Rolling just out of reach, Tommy slashed at Jason’s arm.  Yard length white discharges crackled about Jason’s arm and torso, spreading to his legs.  Following his arm, Tommy rolled over, kicking at Jason’s feet.  Rolling complexly over onto his stomach, Tommy leapt up.  Jason attacked, wreathed in lightning.  Tommy parried and countered with blade and foot, striking with more vaporizing power with each attack.

Jason kept attacking.  Tommy swung Saba at Jason’s head.  Jason pummeled his lower arm into Tommy’s hands, knocking Saba from them.  Suddenly Jason halted in mid-swing, gasping.  Crackling quicker, the lightning fused, enveloping his body.  Tommy jump spin side kicked him, adding one final energy topping.  Jason staggered backward.  Groaning, he yelled out.  Jason coiled.  Explosions rocketed across his body and he slumped to his side, crumpling to his hips and hands.  Dust and wispy smoke veiled him.  Tommy gazed into it, cradling his sore chest.  Jason’s silhouette remained.

 _Of course it wouldn’t be easy_ , he thought, knowing that he could have decimated a small army with that power.  Tommy pivoted his legs, trying to shift them but his legs would not move.  _Come on!_ he insisted.  But he needed time for his powers to reenergize—for his legs to heal.  He thought back to Sean’s endurance exercise.  Tommy wished that he had had time for a few more of those.  Sadly, time was not on his side.

Even though he had defied evil at every turn, it always seemed to get his way with him.  Yes, Tommy had defended the earth repeatedly from Evil, but it had turned him into a power ranger, set him against his friends, forced him to give up his powers, damaged them, and then destroyed them.  Just like fate, Tommy could not stop Jason.  In this crucial yet brief eternity, he questioned whether staying had been the right thing.  Tommy had always fought.  Even when Rita had tried stealing his powers with the Green Candle, Tommy had been defiant.  Regardless of his spirit (remarkable and inspiring as it had been), he had had to give up his power coin to Jason so that the power could be kept by Good.

However, his powers were not at stake here.  They never were.

A fireball shot out from the thinning dust.  Blurred in his stupor, Tommy dodged too late.  It slammed into his left lower chest, right where his shield met his regular costume layer.  Sparks accompanied his groan.  A bruise complained in its birth.  Another slammed over his heart, exploding.  Yelling Tommy stumbled to the ground.  Rocks spilled between his fingers, partially burying them.  He craned his neck staring across the arid land.  Jason stood tall and unscathed.  Sighing, Tommy crumpled to his left side.

Jason crossed the rocks toward his former and current friend.  Inches from him, he stopped, surveying the fallen ranger.

Barely conscious, Tommy remained morphed.

Jason allowed a moment of silence—of peace.

Several blaster shots raked his right side.  Jason turned, facing it. 

“Get away from him!” Saba yelled.  Levitating three feet above the ground, Saba fired again, hitting an invisible shield inches from Jason’s clothes.  “Easy, Saba,” he said.  “I’m not going to hurt him.”

“I don’t trust you,” said the sabre.

Turning back to Tommy, Jason knelt.  Brushing a hand through the air over Tommy, flames ignited over and around Tommy.

“Stop it!” shouted Saba.

Jason ignored him.  Standing, he rotated his hand ninety degrees.  Tommy hovered before him.  Jason lowered his hand a few inches.  “Return to your partner, Saba,” he instructed, dropping his hand and cutting the flow of power to Tommy.  He backed away.

Tommy sank down onto his soles, the flames abating.  Opening his eyes, he breathed in.

“Care to finish?” Jason asked, drawing his katana once more.

“Huh?” Tommy whispered.  _We’re still fighting?_ he wondered, looking at his hands.

“White Ranger,” Saba said, nearing Tommy’s right hand.  “We are still in battle and outmatched.  I suggest we withdraw.”

Tommy grasped Saba by the handle.  “I don’t think we can, buddy,” he said.  “Not unless he sends us away or leaves.”  Jason made no sign of acquiescing.  “We’re stuck,” Tommy half muttered while staring into Jason’s eyes.  “So we have no choice.”  Stepping into an even sideway stance, he raised his hands to midlevel, ready to fight.

On the sidelines, Trent stamped his foot, wishing he could morph one more time.  Gritting his teeth, he sighed, wondering why Tommy agreed to this.  And then he remembered.  He smiled, showing his teeth.  A chuckle loosed his core.  Then the chuckle fled from him.  His face sagged.  “What happens if you die, Dr. O.?  How’s the world safe?”

Jason and Tommy lunged forward, crossing blades.  Echoes surrounded them.  They slid toward each other, glaring into each other’s eyes.  No longer friends but enemies.  Tommy broke away, reading to strike Jason’s katana.  Faster than Tommy, Jason slammed his blade down, slicing through Saba’s blade.  Saba cried out.  Tommy gasped.

Jason raised his sword into high guard.  Stepping forward, Jason slashed across and through Tommy’s shield.  Sparks rained from the Ranger’s chest.

Trent gasped, holding his breath.

Dropping to his knees, Tommy gaped up at Jason, twisting his neck.

Stepping through, Jason whirled around, whipping his sword around, he sliced diagonally through the top of Tommy’s helmet cleaving off a section.  Tommy gasped and choked, unable to yell.  Thighs rocking together, he tilted leftward, and then crumpled, his head bouncing upon the rocks.  Some leapt in the air.  Others shifted.  All the while, Tommy stared blankly ahead of him, unaware of his staccato breathing and the gaging wrestling within his mouth.  His arms lay bent at his sides, quivering and shivering.  He could not pray.

 _How, Jason?_ he mentally stammered.  Tommy slid apart his jaw, tightening his throat.  “’Ow?” he asked aloud, unable to articulate.  Regardless, the mixed sentiments lay within and below his mouth.

His helmet faded.


End file.
